


The Power of Us

by XiuChen4Ever



Category: EXO (Band), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pokemon Battle, Pokemon Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiuChen4Ever/pseuds/XiuChen4Ever
Summary: When the DPRK sends three powerful Pokemon to attack Seoul in advance of their army, civilian trainers team up to defend their city.





	The Power of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [kpopolymfics2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  **10cm – "Help"**  
> [lyrics](https://popgasa.com/2017/08/28/10cm-help/) **|** [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnT9LmmlLXw) **|** [supplementary](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/03/ab/0e/03ab0e27baba9ba0fddd178850097731.jpg) \- [prompts](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/39/f5/33/39f5336cdf1c1dfbe3b6425ff4600d19.jpg)
> 
> This fic was written for K-Pop Olymfics 2019 as part of Team Alternate Universe 2. Olymfics is a challenge in which participants write fics based on prompt sets and compete against other teams of writers, organized by genre. Competition is over, but I still hope readers enjoy this fic!

##  Forewarn

Kyungsoo would have missed the announcement entirely if not for Klink and Klang, and he’s not sure he wouldn’t have preferred it that way.  As it is, he stands in his sparsely-furnished apartment with the vacuum attachment slack in his hand. The machine still runs until Klinklang, curious as to why his trainer had evidently shut down, shuts the vacuum down as well.

And then they all just stare at the television together, whirring gears and whirring thoughts all ground to a halt by the government’s shocking request.

“All trainers with highly-trained Pokémon, especially those considered Legendary or those capable of Mega-Evolution, are asked to consider remaining behind to defend the city.  Any volunteers should be aware that the honor of protecting our home will come at the cost of many lives, human and Pokémon—” 

Kyungsoo gestures, and the smallest of the three gear-shaped Pokémon mutes the television.  The chilling images are enough on their own without the announcer’s urgent-but-calm voiceover, and the captions scrolling along the bottom of the screen are providing the most relevant information anyway.  Part of Kyungsoo’s mind notes the address of the closest volunteer rendezvous point, where civilians can register their names and their team of Pokémon so they can be checked off after the conflict as alive or dead.  

Based on the footage being relayed back to Seoul via surveillance drone, the tick is going to be in the “dead” box for basically everybody.

North Korea has evidently discovered the secret to Primal Reversion, and has unleashed the Weather Trio to punch through Seoul in advance of their army.  Primal Kyogre, a massive orca-shaped beast the deep blue of the ocean, is making its way along the coast to the mouth of the Han River. Primal Groudon, an angry red bipedal dinosaur-looking thing that is calling to mind every terrible Godzilla movie ever made, is towering over the landscape as it strides toward the DMZ.  And Mega Rayquaza, a green serpentine dragon-type, is spiralling through the air midway between the other two, acting as a link between land and sea.

Part of Kyungsoo is impressed.  The mercurial dictator of the DPRK had threatened various forms of military action against South Korea for decades, and while all threats had been taken seriously at the government level and planned against, most average citizens didn’t lose any sleep at night over the volatile country to their north.  Yet the megalomaniac had done it; his teams of scientists had unlocked the full potential of the powerful Pokémon they’d captured (and undoubtedly tormented). 

And now they’re actually headed to Seoul to crush the city to rubble, which means Kyungsoo faces the most terrifying choice of his life.

He can stay in his apartment with the machine-like creatures that are his only friends, which is likely to lead to a painful death when the city is destroyed.

Or he can leave his apartment, to either evacuate with the masses or help defend his home.  

For most, this would be an easy choice, but the second option involves facing something that, to him, is more terrifying than an entire army of tortured, brainwashed DPRK Pokémon:  His fellow human beings.

Kyungsoo vastly prefers the company of machines.  They’re quiet, predictable, and orderly. They do as they’re told, unaffected by messy human emotions or gross human diseases.  They never try to hug him, nor do they expect him to hug them. Sure, they have the occasional bug or malfunction, but Kyungsoo knows exactly how to take them apart and reassemble them so they work perfectly.  

He’s pretty sure society would disapprove if he tried to do the same to his fellow humans.

He’d had to deal with other people when he was younger, of course.  But he’d never  _ liked _ it, as evidenced by the awkwardness that had resulted in his college days when he’d joined a steel-type gym to accelerate the training of the mechanically-inclined Pokémon he’d caught in an abandoned factory as a teen.  

His dedication to improving his 'Mon meant he’d generally won his matches, and since he had no interest in chatting with the vanquished trainer afterwards, he’d soon developed a reputation for being as cold as his preferred Pokémon type.  He’d eventually been asked to either join the gym as an instructor or stop coming altogether, and it wasn’t a hard decision to keep himself and his intimidating 'Mon at home.

To avoid future awkwardness, he’d devoted himself to a career path that not only allowed him to work with machines but let him do so as the only human present.  And six years ago, he’d received a promotion that finally allowed him to work from home, avoiding the crush of bodies on the morning commute and all the infectious germs that they harbor.  Now he merely walks from his tidy bedroom to his sanitary workshop, assisted by his steadfast crew of well-trained gear Pokémon. He communicates with his office via email, and the only time he sees another human is when his groceries are delivered.  

Kyungsoo hasn’t had a reason to leave his home for years.  The less he’d gone out, the less he’d wanted to, and after so long in his comfortable, predictable bubble, the very thought of crossing the threshold sends cold sweat down his spine.

But now Seoul is under attack, and his choice is to stay and probably die or leave and possibly die anyway.

He may have stood for hours paralyzed with indecision, but a gentle bump against his house slipper steals his attention from the silent terror of the television.

Kyungsoo drops his gaze to see a worn Pokéball resting on the freshly-vacuumed carpet.  The matte smudges where the metal surface peeks through the white paint are as familiar to him as his own hand.

They should be, considering they line up exactly with the tips of his fingers when he reaches down to pick the ball up.

He lifts his wide brown eyes to consider the trio of floating gear-like Pokémon hovering beside the tipped-over basket Kyungsoo usually keeps shoved well underneath the futon.  His mechanical companions wait, unflinching before the considering gaze of their trainer.

Instead, it’s the trainer that quails beneath the steady, expectant regard of his only friends.  Unable to deny the silent plea, Kyungsoo speaks for the first time in months as he brings the Pokéball in his hand to rest against his chest.

“Okay.”

Steel cogs sing with pride and encouragement as Kyungsoo trades house slippers for a long-neglected pair of sneakers.  He may not like other people, but he still loves his country. And to be honest, he’d rather die beside his mechanical mates than endure a mass evacuation wedged into emergency transport with other  _ people. _

Still, it takes three deep breaths before he can actually make himself twist the knob to open the door and leave his apartment, Klink, Klang, and Klinklang floating along behind.

He’s not ready to face the world and all the things he hates about it that haven’t changed.  It’s still filled with gross, messy humans; even grosser and messier today as they freak out about the attacks and rush to evacuate the city.  It takes more deep breaths to force himself to walk down the street toward the closest trainer rendezvous point. His hands are shaking with anxiety, but Kyungsoo manages to keep going.

At heart, an engineer is really just a problem-solver, and Kyungsoo is no exception.  He can’t stand to leave an imperfection in any of his designs or the last boxes of a crossword puzzle unfinished.  And now the city he lives in is under attack; the service and technology-loving city that enables him to live all by himself in his safe, clean apartment and have everything he needs or wants delivered right to his door.  

He can’t sit by when he has the solution to that problem, or at least part of it.  No one’s ‘Mon are better trained than his, and he has just the thing for that spiraling dragon in particular.  So he’s going to save his city or die trying, because moving somewhere else with a poorer infrastructure is not an appealing option.  

Having to go down to the crowded, noisy, snot-nosed child-infested shops to do his own hunting and gathering like a caveman would basically kill him anyway.  Risking death to save his way of life can’t possibly be worse.

 

##  Static

Minseok can’t help but smile at Minun’s antics as they walk down the sidewalk toward their favorite cafe.  The cheerful yellow Pokémon is practically dancing over the pavement, the blue tips of its oversized ears bouncing as it frolics.

“Wait for me, Mini-Min!  I know you’re excited to see Plusle, but we don’t even know if they’ll be there.”

Even as he cautions his Pokémon not to get its hopes up, Minseok can feel his own heart racing in anticipation.   _ Please let him be there. _  It’s been over two weeks, and Minseok’s heart aches with the need to see the man he loves more than life.

Then his heart skips as Minun cavorts in front of the cafe, practically gluing itself to the big window in excitement.  Minseok’s feet move faster, his heart feels like it might explode because there, at their usual table, is Jongdae, grinning at his own Pokémon plastered to the opposite side of the glass.

The two Pokémon are nearly identical, looking almost like rabbit plushies come to life.  The main difference between the two is that Minun’s ears, cheeks, forepaws, and tail tip are blue, and Plusle’s are red.  That, and Minun’s cheeks and tail are adorned with minus signs while Plusle’s are the opposite.

But opposites attract, so Minseok has to tug on Minun almost roughly to get the buzzing little beast to release the covalent bond holding it against the positively-charged Pokémon.  Eventually he succeeds in dislodging his companion and ushers them both inside.

Struth, Jongdae’s  _ smile. _  Minseok hasn’t seen it in far too long, but it fades away like summer into fall when Jongdae lifts his gaze from the pair of joyfully wrestling Pokémon to regard Minseok warily instead, and for a traitorous instant, Minseok considers walking right back out of the best coffee shop in Seoul.  But there’s an iced Americano sitting opposite Jongdae’s own, and this tangible proof that the man he loves cares about him, knows him well enough to predict his order on this sunny day, is enough to bring Minseok’s own smile back to his lips.

“Hey,” he greets, carefully sitting opposite Jongdae exactly as a friend, brother, or colleague might do.  There’s no hugging, no kissing, no bodily contact at all, but Minseok can’t help but grin at the beautiful man that owns his heart.

“Hey,” Jongdae replies, flashing a quick little smile back across the square wooden table.  “I’m sorry it’s been so long—I’ve been really busy at work, the ad campaign I’m working on launches next week, and then I had to get fitted for my best man suit for Jongdeok’s wedding.”  Jongdae’s sigh is exaggerated. “He is frazzled to the core getting ready for this thing, Min. I don’t envy him at  _ all. _ ”

_ I do, _ Minseok wants to say.   _ He gets to marry the person he loves. _

But he doesn’t say that because he doesn’t want to ruin the only time he’s gotten to see Jongdae in weeks.  Instead, he says, “I’m sure the wedding will be beautiful, and the ad campaign will be a huge success.”

Jongdae blesses Minseok with a little laugh.  “Always so positive. We really should swap Pokémon,” he jokingly suggests, not for the first time.  

They’d captured the pair together as teenagers when Jongdae had just started getting into training electric-types, and besotted Minseok had jumped at the chance to go camping overnight in Boramae Park with his best friend, even if he’d had to leave his beloved Glalie behind.  He’d been prepared to die quietly to himself as he shared a two-man tent with his debilitating crush, separated by sleeping bags and unrequited feelings.

Except a stammering Jongdae had actually confessed to reciprocating Minseok’s poorly-hidden infatuation, and the boys had shared their first kiss under the stars.  Their tent had been lit by the red and blue sparks emitted by their excited, freshly-captured Pokémon, and Jongdae had been stupidly amused to nickname Minseok’s new companion after its blushing trainer.

“My Min,” he had cooed.  “And Min’s Minun. Min’s Mini-Min!”

Minseok had chosen to shut him up by kissing him again.

But in the morning, Jongdae had put a damper on Minseok’s elation:  The boy he adored admitted to liking him back, but had also said that his family would never approve, and they had to remain “best friends” unless they were well and truly alone.  They could never really date, couldn’t even risk a public embrace, because Jongdae was terrified his conservative father would guess they were more than friends and forbid him from seeing Minseok at all.

And Minseok had stupidly agreed to be Jongdae’s shameful secret, to suppress his affection for the guy he adored, willing to accept half a relationship instead of none because Jongdae had meant everything to him.  He still does, even though his family and his job and societal expectations make Jongdae stressed and paranoid, and their “coffee breaks” are stretching farther and farther apart.

“My roommate’s gone this weekend,” Minseok offers.  “Maybe we could watch the game.”

Jongdae’s face transforms into the mask he wears when he lies, and Minseok doesn’t need to hear the answer on his lips to understand the one he’s not saying.

“I’ll be too busy, Min,” those kittenish lips say, voice carrying a careful measure of regret.  “Gotta work overtime until the campaign launches. You know how it is.”

Minseok does know how it is, because behind the perfectly-presentable mask, Jongdae’s eyes are screaming  _ I’m too afraid of being caught. _

It’s hard for Minseok not to interpret Jongdae’s fear as meaning  _ You aren’t worth it. _

Still, he forces a shrug and a nonchalant smile as he sips his Americano, the bitter flavor of the brew sweetened slightly by the sugar Jongdae has added.  A perfect metaphor for his life, except Minseok is finding it a lot harder to taste Jongdae’s sweetness; a lot harder to swallow down his own bitterness.

Jongdae moves his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but instead he takes a bite of the muffin in front of him.  Now Minseok’s smile is genuinely fond as he reaches to brush a crumb from the corner of those kittenish lips. Jongdae has always been more enthusiastic than tidy in all areas of life, and eating is no exception.

But Minseok’s fingers barely reach Jongdae’s face before they’re knocked away by Jongdae’s own.  For a moment, Jongdae glares at him, layers of fear and frustration in his gaze.

Abandoning his Americano along with his heart, Minseok stands up and walks out, calling for a bewildered Minun to come along or be left behind as well.

He manages to hold his composure only because his blue-eared friend immediately darts up to his shoulder, sparking behind him at Jongdae as Minseok walks away from the only man he’s ever loved.

That composure breaks a minute later, when he hears hasty footsteps and Jongdae’s frantic voice behind him.

“Min, wait!”

But Minseok is done waiting for a man who’s not even willing to meet him halfway.  He spins on his heel, shouting at the startled man without regard to onlookers. “I am not something to be ashamed of, Kim Jongdae, and neither is our love.  Or rather,  _ my _ love, because you seem to have zero interest in pursuing this relationship.”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” Jongdae says, but he does so in a low, furtive voice, eyes darting around to see if anyone’s paying attention to Minseok’s outburst.  “I do want to pursue this relationship.”

“Then say it,” Minseok demands, eyes hard, wishing he could shoot sparks from his appendages like the irate Pokémon on his shoulder.

“Say what?” Jongdae asks, eyebrows adorably quirked over frantic black eyes.

“That you love me,” Minseok answers, just to twist the knife in his own heart a little more.  

Jongdae’s never said it in the seven years they’ve been “together.”  Not once, though Minseok has confessed repeatedly. Minseok had murmured it into the phone, when Jongdae would only talk to him in whispers, hiding in his bedroom closet to further muffle his non-committal words.  He’d whispered it in Jongdae’s ear in the back row of a darkened movie theater on the rare occasions Minseok had managed to convince him that watching a superhero flick together is a normal thing super-straight dude-bros do.  He’d even moaned it beneath the satin sheets Minseok had purchased to cover the queen-sized mattress in the apartment he’d foolishly hoped they’d someday share. 

And Minseok says it now, out in the open, in the light of day, in public, unapologetic about his feelings even if he already knows the ending of this little play.

“I love you, Kim Jongdae.”

As he expected, Jongdae doesn’t reply.  He just stands there looking helpless, Plusle prodding at his trainer ineffectively as Minseok turns and walks away.

He doesn’t see the announcement of the impending attacks and the request for self-sacrificing volunteers until he gets back to the apartment that will never truly be home without Jongdae in it.  Rising rent had forced him to settle for an entirely different male roommate, one he wasn’t in love with but who would at least enthusiastically hug Minseok if FC Seoul scored an important goal. Said roommate is in China at the moment visiting his family, so Minseok texts him the situation in case the news hasn’t made it off the peninsula yet.  He offers to box up anything the man might want to salvage and send it off with the evacuees to eventually post.

_ Why can’t you bring it to me yourself? _ his roommate texts back.   _ Aren’t you evacuating?  You know you’re always welcome here. _

_ You’ve always been a great friend, Han.  Please remember me well. _  Minseok sends his reply before turning off his phone to avoid the incoming deluge of pleas to change his mind.  

He won’t reconsider.  He’s already left his bleeding heart in the middle of the street, so he has no hesitation about signing up to lay down his life.  

Sending up a little prayer that Jongdae will make it out of the city safely and that his family will forgive him, he quickly shoves the requested keepsakes and valuables into one box and tosses the things he wants to send to his family in another.  He tapes them up and addresses them carefully, since if the packages get sent back undeliverable, there will likely be nothing but a pile of rubble at the return address. 

He tells Minun and Glalie he loves them and thanks them for being such good companions before coaxing them into their Pokéballs, just in case he doesn’t have time later.  Then he clips them to his belt along with the freshly-filled pouch of training supplies.

Minseok will always love Jongdae.  But he also loves his country, and if the first won’t have him, he’ll give himself to the second.  That way he can be sure he’ll be appreciated and honored and remembered well instead of being hidden away by another’s shame.

He idly wonders if Jongdae will admit to loving another man once that man has died a hero.

 

##  Rattled

“Papa, we’re going to be late!”

Junmyeon sighs, rushing to finish shoving his son’s things into the brightly-colored backpack that is still large enough to hold everything a six-year-old needs for a weekend at their non-custodial parent’s tiny apartment, eating way too much junk food and staying up too late because said non-custodial parent is pathetic enough to try to bribe his child to love him.

“Put your shoes on, then, Sehunnie,” he calls as he zips the overstuffed bag.  He looks over his shoulder at the silver-white fish-like creature swimming in the air above his head.  “Wishiwashi, did our Hunnie leave anything behind?”

The Pokémon waggles its head from side to side in negation, and Junmyeon gives his companion a smile before heading toward the door to tie his whining son’s shoes, a skill he still insists he can’t master even though he’s seen insta videos of the boy  _ knitting _ on his Chinese grandmother’s lap.

“Big boys can tie their own shoes,” he sighs as he kneels to attend to his son’s imperiously-proffered foot.  

“ _ You _ do it,” Sehun insists, wiggling the whole time just to make the task that much more of a challenge for his Papa.

When he’s finished, he smiles at his adorable, impatient child.  “Don’t forget your mouse ears.” 

But Sehun ignores him as Junmyeon offers the headband that his son had won at the arcade on Saturday afternoon, jumping up and down in glee before throwing up a neon cascade of blue raspberry slushie and too much saltwater taffy.  Junmyeon had scoured the internet for advice on getting the stain out of Sehunnie’s clothes (and his own), but after many sessions with color-safe bleach that basically occupied the rest of his weekend, Junmyeon was able to pack the almost-perfect outfit back into the cheerful backpack to take back home.

With a resigned sigh, Junmyeon perches the ears atop his own head.  He knows he’s still going to hear about it from his ex, but food dye is literally dye and Junmyeon generally has to obey the laws of physics.

The aquatic creature swimming happily through the air above him being a very notable exception.

When said aquatic creature follows them out into the hallway, Sehun scowls up at it.  “Can’t you leave your dumb floating fish at home? It’s so embarrassing, Papa.”

Junmyeon frowns at his child.  “Washi is my friend. Your friend follows you,” he points out.

Sehun casts goo-goo eyes at the pale blue Pokémon flapping cloudy wings at his side.  “Swablu is cooler, though, Papa. When we grow up, he’ll be able to Mega-Evolve!”

Junmyeon forces a smile.  “Keep training him well, Sehunnie,” he says.  “I’m proud of how well you work together already.”

Sehun preens under the praise, bouncing into the elevator and chattering excitedly about the new moves they’d been working on.  The boy is still four years too young to register as a trainer, of course, but he’d become obsessed with the fluffy flyers, pouting for days until Junmyeon’s ex had given in and helped the child capture one.  

Thankfully, the boy is turning out to be a dedicated trainer, and while Junmyeon wishes his ex had a stronger sense of loyalty, he at least has to admit the man is an incredible trainer himself.  He had managed to capture Xerneas, after all.

The Legendary Pokémon can deliver healing energy to the entire world, but it couldn’t mend the wound in their relationship.

Some days, Junmyeon hates his ex, hates that his beautiful dimpled smile was aimed at someone else even when they were still together, even as Junmyeon spent hours poring over adoption websites, determined to at least give his beloved a child even if they couldn’t ever legally be a family.  They couldn’t adopt together but the laws had relaxed enough to allow single men with sufficient income and “support structure” (which basically meant living parents) to adopt. 

Since Junmyeon would be spending more time with the child, doing most of the daily caretaking while his partner traveled to impart his training wisdom at seminars and conferences, Junmyeon had insisted his partner be connected to the child by having the paperwork done in his name.

A year after they’d welcomed baby Sehunnie into their lives, his partner had walked out of Junmyeon’s, taking the toddler with him.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” those full lips had apologized for kissing, sucking, gasping for someone else.  “We just had to work so closely together to capture Xerneas and Yveltal, it was really stressful. When we finally succeeded, we got a little drunk to celebrate, and, well.  I’m sorry it happened this way, but it made me realize how much better he fits into my lifestyle.”

As if a lover were a travel accessory or an exercise habit.

Junmyeon would have been thrilled to be either for his jet-setting partner, but the man had always turned down his offers to accompany him.

“You’d be so bored, Junie,” he’d laugh.  “We do a lot of sitting around and waiting, or sitting around and talking shop.  You wouldn’t even understand a word we’d say.”

Determined to prove his partner wrong, Junmyeon had gone out to capture his very own Pokémon, borrowing a fishing pole and hoping to reel in something amazing, one of those great big Gyarados or an impressively-fanged Sharpedo.  

Instead, he’d gotten his Wishiwashi, who’d been so grateful for the attention that Junmyeon hadn’t the heart to toss him away and try again.

His partner had laughed, of course, cooing over Junmyeon’s “cute little fishie,” but Junmyeon hadn’t cared.  Washi has turned out to be far more loyal to Junmyeon than his ex-partner.

But his ex is loyal to the child they’d once promised to raise together.  Of course he is, since it’s his name alone on the adoption papers. Junmyeon has no legal right to the child he’d basically raised alone for a year, but that doesn’t stop his heart from insisting Sehun is  _ his  _ son, too.

So he hurries to follow that son out of the shabby apartment building and down the street to the playground, carrying Sehun’s backpack full of salvaged clothing and completed homework.  Junmyeon lets his ex and his son push him around because he knows the privilege of seeing Sehunnie at all could be revoked on a whim, and even if he’d failed to hang on to his ex’s affection, he’s determined to hang on to the beautiful baby boy he’d fallen in love with through a photo on his laptop screen.

He stays in love through his laptop screen, too; voraciously consuming any photo or video of the boy his ex posts to social media.  He restrains himself to leaving only a “like,” forcing the tiny red heart below each post to convey all of his love across the Yellow Sea to Qingdao, where people call his son “Shixun” and warp his vowels so he speaks his native tongue with an accent.

He’s glad there’s not a “hate” button as well, or he’d embarrass himself by clicking it on every photo of his ex looking happy and fulfilled and deeply in love with someone who isn’t Junmyeon.

Perhaps if Junmyeon had been taller, more fashionable, more Chinese, his ex wouldn’t have strayed to a man who is.  Maybe if Junmyeon were more interesting, more adventurous, better in bed, he’d have fit well enough into his ex’s lifestyle to have traveled with him to capture exotic Pokémon and educate the masses.

But if he had, he wouldn’t have been home to raise Sehun.  They never would have considered adoption, and Junmyeon would have missed out on the true love of his life.

So he makes funny faces, forces a smile as he sends his actual heart back to the man his son calls “Daddy.”  Sehun squeals with excitement, bouncing into his legal father’s arms, not sparing a glance back for the man who’d strapped the screaming, colicky child across his chest to make a mortifying trip to the convenience store at three a.m., purchasing special sensitive-tummy formula and enduring the judgmental eyes of the matronly cashier.

It wasn’t like he could have left the shrieking infant home alone.  Nor could he have chosen not to purchase the only formula the poor little thing could keep down.  But even when he’d done his best, made the only choices he could have, the world had deemed him a failure as a parent.

Deep down Junmyeon knows that even if it had been his name on the adoption papers, Sehun would still have ended up answering more readily to Shixun.

“Hello, Junmyeon.”  

Soft dark eyes look him up and down and Junmyeon suddenly remembers he’s wearing jeans and an old sweatshirt in contrast to his ex’s business suit.  Damn the man for always being so put together. Junmyeon often tries to convince himself that everyone else struggles as much as he does; they just simply hold it in.  But watching his well-dressed, impeccably-handsome ex buckle Sehun into the child seat in the back of the elegant rental car makes Junmyeon feel like he’s the only loser in the world.

“Hello, Yixing,” Junmyeon responds politely.  He even manages to smile as he hands over the backpack, because Sehun and Swablu are watching through the richly-tinted window.

“He wasn’t any trouble?”  Yixing’s dimple flashes playfully, like a surgeon’s scalpel that slices so quickly the patient barely feels it even though they’re left with permanent scars.

“An angel as always,” Junmyeon chirps, Washi undulating by his shoulder.  “Have a safe flight.”

“Thanks,” Yixing grins back.  “See you next month.”

And then the bastard drives off with Junmyeon’s heart, just like he always has.

Junmyeon manages not to ugly-sob until he’s facing away from the street, crumpling into a soggy pile on a cement step at the edge of the empty playground.  There are still people around, so he stifles the noise, merely letting tears and snot hit the scuffed pavement beneath his feet. 

Washi burbles in concern, nuzzling his cheek in a wet, slimy way that still manages to be comforting.  The gentle sound of a nearby busker’s guitar gives him something to focus on besides the freshly-opened Sehun-shaped hole in his chest, and Junmyeon’s just about to get his act together when his phone buzzes with an emergency government alert.

As he reads the grim pronouncements and desperate requests for civilian volunteers, Junmyeon’s residual sobs become aborted laughter.

For the first time in five years, Junmyeon is absolutely thrilled that his son is on his way to China.

 

##  Trace

Jongdae is only frozen in the street for a minute, but it’s a century too long to keep the love of his life from walking away.

_ Say something, you idiot, _ he screams at himself as his irate Pokémon bats at his head with its red-tipped limbs, but he can only choke on words that won’t come out.  Stricken, he watches Minseok walk away, his memory deciding to turn the knife by replaying all the times his secret lover had been awesome to him and all the times Jongdae had answered his warmth with ice.

It’s far too late to change the past.  Jongdae is caught fast in a trap made strong by all the stupid things he did, unable to free himself with the three little words he should have said to the beautiful, amazing man that had put up with all of Jongdae’s neglect and excuses for far too long.

“Wait!” he finally calls, but Minseok is long gone.  

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fumbles it out with desperate hands, hoping it’s his precious Min calling to yell at him some more; to give him another chance.  But it’s only his father, probably wondering why his son isn’t at the dinner table yet.

“Dad,” Jongdae answers, his voice immediately drowned out by his father’s booming words just as it always has been.

“Son, where are you?”

“I’m—”

“You need to get home.  The DPRK has sicced some rabid Poke-beasts on us and we all need to get out of the city.  I always told you those things were dangerous. Your mother and I will be leaving as soon as she’s finished packing all the wed—”

Jongdae hangs up, immediately tapping Minseok’s contact to make sure his heart’s delight has heard the news.  Minseok had been so upset, he probably wasn’t going to notice the announcements and—

“Please leave a message for:  Kim. Min. Seok. After the beep.”

_ Shit. _  This is all Jongdae’s fault.  Minseok has turned his phone off and now he’s going to be squished inside that cozy little apartment that Jongdae loves even if he makes excuses not to visit.  It’s just too painful to be surrounded by the home that could have been his if he weren’t so much of a coward; if he were actually good enough to wake up beside the living embodiment of perfection every day.

Even though Jongdae hasn’t been there in years he still knows where it is, and his feet are moving in that direction before the voicemail can pick up the re-dialed call.  Breaking into a run, he cuts the digital voice off as soon as it answers, dodging pedestrians and lamp posts while trying to find the contact for Minseok’s roommate with brief glances down at his phone.  

He’d only met the too-handsome guy once but they’d traded numbers because the guy is a commercial illustrator and Minseok thought Jongdae might be able to use him on a project or two.  Jongdae had acquiesced with gritted teeth to please the man he loves, but he has an irrational hatred for the man who gets to see his Min’s fluffy morning hair and make him coffee and be the last voice he hears before he goes to bed.

Jongdae hates that guy almost as much as he hates himself.

What even was his name?  Hangeng? No, just Han—

He narrowly avoids an intimate encounter with a bollard, but the phone is ringing in his ear as he resumes his mad dash for Minseok’s flat.

A tense voice greets him in Mandarin.  Jongdae curses in Korean. He dredges up enough of his high school Chinese to produce a badly-pronounced “Sorry, wrong number,” but the resulting bark of laughter is loud enough to hear even as he pulls the phone away from his ear.

“Jongdae?”

Jongdae presses the glass back against his face as he straight-up hurdles a stroller suddenly thrust into his path.  “Han?”

“Is Minseok with you?” both men blurt at the same time, followed by more multilingual cursing.

“So he’s not home?” Jongdae asks even as he rounds the corner to Minseok’s street.

“I don’t know, I’m in China, he turned his phone off but I don’t think he plans to evacuate.”  Jongdae can hear the foreign man’s stress in the thickness of his accent.

“What?” Jongdae asks, darting across a street leaving squealing brakes in his wake.  “Why wouldn’t he evacuate?”

“I’m not sure what he’s planning, but since your government is assembling civilian trainers with highly-trained 'Mon, I’m afraid he’s going to volunteer.”

Jongdae stumbles directly into a bench.  “He’s going to _ what?” _

 

##  Pickup

“Sometimes, I dream.  Sometimes, I fly…”

Chanyeol’s fingers continue to strum his guitar for a few more bars after his voice fades out, but eventually they still against the taut metal strings.  He just can’t concentrate on his song—all his attention is on the man slumped at the edge of the nearby playground, the tears in his eyes a jarring contrast to the juvenile mouse ears perched amid fluffy ash-blond hair.

Chewing his lower lip, Chanyeol stares at the stranger, torn between leaving the man to his sorrow or going over to offer his assistance.  A nudge at his elbow prods him into action, and Chanyeol stands, shifting the guitar on its strap so it hangs upside-down against his back.  

“You’re right, Pyroar,” he says, addressing the mastiff-sized feline at his side.  “We can’t just leave him like that.”

The pair cautiously approach the man, now barking out a strange sort of laugh as he blinks watery eyes at his phone.  He looks up when his Wishiwashi squeaks an alert, and dark eyes flick over Pyroar before lifting to Chanyeol’s face.

“Are you alright?” Chanyeol asks, voice deep with concern.  It’s a dumb question and Chanyeol knows it, but it seems like a more polite conversation opener than “Damn, you look like crap.”

The distressed man gives him an awkward half-smile.  “Not really, but at least my son is.” He holds up the phone, and Chanyeol can see the alert flashing over the screen.  “That bastard finally did it. We’re under attack.”

Steadying himself with a hand in Pyroar’s yellow-streaked mane of stiff scarlet fur, Chanyeol crouches beside the man.  He ignores the jangling protest from his guitar as the instrument bumps against the pavement, leaning closer as the stranger turns his phone’s volume up.

“...All civilian volunteers should report to the rendezvous points to register themselves and their Pokémon as soon as possible.  The Weather Trio is expected to reach the north end of the city within six hours—”

“Wow, the DPRK actually managed to figure out Primal Reversion?”  Chanyeol gapes at the images of the Primal Kyogre making its way up the Han river.  “We’re really in trouble.”

The man nods, then looks up at his softly-squeaking Pokémon with a sad little smile.  “Too bad Washi isn’t capable of Mega-Evolution. Then we could volunteer and my boy might remember me with honor.”

Chanyeol gives the man a quizzical look.  “Your Wishiwashi looks really well trained.  His Schooling ability makes him just as powerful as a lot of Mega-Evolved 'Mon.”

Both the man and his Pokémon blink at Chanyeol with wide, watery eyes.  

“Haven’t you ever battled with him?”

The man rubs the back of his neck.  “We did at first, but he was never very good.  I’ve trained him mostly by doing Contests and a lot of Super and Hyper Training.  And I feed him lots of vitamins and candy.” He directs a tiny smile to the floating fish-like Pokémon.  “I once hoped to impress someone with how well I could train him, but now I’m just happy to have him as a friend.”

Chanyeol smiles as the Wishiwashi chirps contentedly at its trainer.  “Well, with how well you’ve trained him, he’s a powerful friend, indeed.  But if you have a son to raise, shouldn’t you be evacuating to safety with him?”

The stranger just shakes his head.  “My boy lives in China with my ex and his new partner,” he admits.  “He has everything he needs to grow up happy and strong with them, so maybe we really should volunteer.”  He gazes up at his silver-scaled companion. “What do you think, Washi? Should we stay to help save Seoul?  Show our Sehunnie how brave we are?”

The Wishiwashi squeaks its own name back to its trainer, but Chanyeol can hear the determination in the tiny little voice.  Pyroar rumbles inquiringly at Chanyeol’s side, and he tilts his face toward the firey leonine beast. 

“You want to volunteer, too?”

Pyroar’s rumble is distinctly affirmative.

“You’re well-trained and I’m proud of you, but you can’t Mega-Evolve.  I don’t want to send you up against something I know you can’t handle.”

Pyroar paws at Chanyeol’s belt where another Pokéball is clipped.

Chanyeol laughs.  “Volunteering someone else, I see,” he chastises, but his voice is more fond than stern.

The stranger stands up, eyes on his phone’s GPS screen.  “The nearest rendezvous point is a few blocks that way.” He smiles down at the still-crouching Chanyeol, the expression genuine even if his eyes are still puffy and red.  “We could walk together, if your feline friend has convinced you to join the defense.”

Chanyeol stands up and ruffles Pyroar’s mane, chuckling when the beast shoots him a dirty look and paws at its magnificent ruff.  “I suppose we could try to earn our keep with more than just a song,” he decides. “I’d love to walk with you, Mister…?”

“Kim Junmyeon, but just Junmyeon is fine.  Insisting on formality in the face of battle seems a bit much.”  Junmyeon is considerably shorter than Chanyeol, but he has a resilient set to his shoulders as he bows.

Bowing in return, Chanyeol laughs.  “I’m Park Chanyeol, but I agree that formalities aren’t necessary.  Let’s be comfortable together as we try to save our city.”

With a plan in place, Junmyeon becomes as buoyant as the Wishiwashi at his shoulder.  “We’re not just going to try, Chanyeol. We’re going to succeed. Let’s go be heroes.”

 

##  Defeatist

Baekhyun doesn’t have to have his Pokémon’s ability to see the future to know that the kid is definitely going to die first.  

It’s inevitable, given that his Pokémon isn’t even fully evolved.  The boy must just barely be old enough to register as a trainer, even though the fuzzy disembodied face hunkered in the boy’s lap looks extremely well-trained.  Way too well-trained for the kid to have done himself. Why is a ten-year-old kid volunteering to stay and protect the city when he should be evacuating with the rest of the non-combatants?  Where are the kid’s parents, and why aren’t they dragging the boy to safety?

The boy in question looks over at Baekhyun and offers a tentative smile and a polite little bow, but Baek just curls a lip and lunges at the kid slightly so he minds his own business.  Pressing his lips together, the kid turns away, gazing into the rest of the crowd milling in front of the rendezvous point. 

A soft symphonic chime comes from beside Baekhyun, and he shoots a similar glare over at the lavender-faced living doll that’s sitting on the bench beside him.

“Shut up, Gothitelle,” Baekhyun grumbles at the child-sized creature.  “If I scare him off, maybe he’ll get out of here before the Trio hits.”

Gothitelle emits another chime, identical in pitch to the previous but somehow more disapproving.  

“What, you think I should offer to protect the brat or something?  He shouldn’t even be here.”

Another chime.

“Well, you also think I should let that disappointing cosmic chrysalis evolve, so you’re obviously just as stupid as the moronic kid even if you can see the future.”

Gothitelle remains silent, but Baekhyun can feel judgmental eyes on him as he slouches on the bench, continuing to scowl at any passing trainer that gives him more than a passing glance.  He’s not going to apologize to the stupid 'Mon, because the trainer is always right—the kid belongs on the first bus out of the city, not in the middle of what will soon be a war zone.

People like Baekhyun belong in a war zone.  Broken people; those that don’t care if the sun ever rises on another day for them.  That’s the type that should be left behind to die, not starry-eyed heroes or naive little kids.  

Jaded, cynical men deserve to be sacrificed for the preservation of the shining city of Seoul, and Baekhyun is the most jaded of them all.

 

##  Scrappy

Jongin forces himself not to pout at the rude grumpy man who’d returned his greeting with a sneer.  He’s not a sniveling little boy anymore, he’s a Pokémon trainer, all official with a license and everything.  He’d even earned a gym badge in Daegu. He’s not going to let some grown-up’s bad mood ruin his good one.

His first Pokémon journey is turning out to be way more exciting than he’d ever hoped.  His school friends were excited if they encountered even an Eevee, but Jongin’s going to fight the Weather Trio and save an entire city.

He’d left his family home near Busan two weeks ago, and had been making his way by bus and train to Seoul ever since, stopping to train his Haunter and see if anyone wanted to trade.  So far, no one has, but Jongin hasn’t given up. He’s been training his best friend since he was six with his father’s help, and Jongin knows his Haunter is strong and tough. He just needs to be traded in order to finish evolving, and then the Gengarite in his bag will be more than just a pretty marble.  It’ll be the key to unlocking all of his floating friend’s potential.

He hugs the disembodied face in his lap closer to his chest as he waits for the rendezvous point to start accepting registrations.  He might be from Busan, but he’s not going to wait for the Primal-Evolved beasts to stomp, swim, and fly all the way down to his home.  He’s going to help stop them here, show that bossy Northern dictator that the Republic of Korea isn’t going to stand by and be conquered ever again.

Most of the trainers passing by the bench he’s sharing with the irritable stranger are drifting toward the doors of the public library that’s being hastily converted to a wartime rally point, but one man pauses in front of them, looking rather lost.  He’s not much taller than Jongin, and his round eyes are wide and wary as they dart from side to side, taking in the increasingly-crowded scene.

When the man’s eyes land on Jongin, the boy bends into a polite bow.  “You can sit here if you want, Mister.” He pats the bench beside him, all too willing to have a buffer between himself and Mr. Grumpypants on the far end of the aluminum.

The man bobs his head at Jongin in acknowledgement, then looks around one more time before hesitantly seating himself in the middle of the bench.  A trio of floating gear-shaped Pokémon trail after him, positioning themselves in the air above the man to form an alert perimeter as if to make sure no one can sneak up on their trainer.

After watching the stranger stare off into space for a minute, Jongin turns his attention to the still-closed library, impatient for it to open so they can all sign up to save the city.  He’s too excited to sit very still, though he tries when he notices the stranger shoots him looks of alarm whenever he wiggles into a more comfortable position. 

Tired of being squeezed in Jongin’s too-intense grasp, Haunter wiggles free to float over Jongin’s head, cautiously investigating the wary silver gear Pokémon floating around the stranger.  He smiles when the smallest one—a cute little pair of interlocking cogs with adorably surprised faces—actually engages with Haunter a little, bobbing playfully at the grinning larger Pokémon.  

“Klink,” the stranger says in a soft voice, calling his Pokémon back into formation, but there’s the hint of a smile on the man’s full lips.

Needing no further encouragement, Jongin scoots closer, giving the man his best teacher-melting smile when the stranger turns toward him.

“Please, Mister.  Could we trade Pokémon?  Just for a little bit? I really want to help protect Seoul with you guys, but my Haunter needs to evolve before he can use my Mega Stone.”  Jongin shifts his backpack around, pawing through it to produce the fist-sized sphere, a swirl of red and gray easily visible through the smoky translucence of the stone.

The man looks like he’s going to turn him away at first, but the littlest set of gears clicks and floats closer to Jongin, turning back to its trainer and bobbing expectantly.  The stranger presses his lips together and clenches his fists over his knees, but he slowly nods his head.

Jongin feels his face split in two as he grins.  “Thanks, Mister! It will just be for a minute, I swear!”  He gives Haunter a pat before prodding his friend toward the stranger and unclipping the Pokémon’s ball from his belt.  He holds it out to the man, but he recoils a little, so Jongin just sets it on the bench halfway between the two of them.  

The stranger’s shoulders relax a little, then he unclips a ball from his own belt and sets it on the bench, picking up Haunter’s ball in exchange.  With a grateful bow, Jongin picks up the stranger’s Pokéball reverently in two hands, pointing his grin up at the smallest gear-like ‘Mon when it clicks down at him.  

“You’re Klink, right?  You’re really cute,” Jongin informs it, and the little silver gears do a neat little flip in the air.  

Then Jongin’s attention is caught by the stranger as he lifts Haunter’s ball up toward the dusky floating face, gesturing at the red and white sphere with his chin.  Jongin bites his lip, because sometimes Haunter is a little bit naughty about going back into his ball, but to the boy’s relief, his friend obediently enters the orb.

The stranger sets the filled Pokéball back on the bench between them, giving Jongin a tiny smile when the boy sets Klink’s ball down beside it.  Each trainer then reclaims their original Pokémon, and Jongin can’t help doing a happy little dance when his best friend’s ball is back in his hands.

“Gengar, I choose you!” he shouts, releasing his pal.  

An instant later, Haunter’s toothy grin and mischievous eyes are laughing at him from a bigger, more substantial dusky purple face.  Little arms and legs and even a cute little tail are now protruding from the floating form.

“Whoa, Gengar, you’re so cool!” Jongin cheers, jumping up and down with his fists thrust victoriously into the air.  Gengar rumbles at him, grin widening as he swoops through the air, hiding in the shadow of a lamp post for a moment before popping back out with an excited gravelly cheer.

Jongin laughs and hugs his playful purple friend, spinning in a happy little circle for a minute.  Then he remembers why evolving Gengar was so important, and he grabs the Mega Stone off the bench where he’d set it.

“Here, Gengy.  Hold this until we need it, okay?”

The tufted purple Pokémon rumbles an agreement, accepting the stone and stashing it wherever Pokémon hold things.  Jongin has always wondered about that a little. Maybe Pokémon are really called that because they’re monsters with secret pockets rather than monsters you can carry around in yours.

Elated at the achievement of his lifelong goal, Jongin turns to thank the cooperative stranger again.  He’s folded halfway into a deep bow with his gratitude already tumbling out of his mouth when he realizes the quiet man isn’t there anymore.

 

##  Galvanize

Minseok has never been more scared in his life but he can’t help but smile as he sees a kid barely old enough to be a trainer dancing around with a Gengar outside the rendezvous point.  He hopes the big purple ghost-type keeps its young trainer safe.

He joins the line of registrants, tapping his fingers against his thigh to burn off some nervous energy.  He could really use his favorite little cheerleader, so he lets Minun out to perch on his shoulder. The little yellow and blue Pokémon hugs Minseok’s head, buzzing gently in his ear.

“I know,” Minseok murmurs.  “This is not what I had planned when I woke up this morning, but moping on a bus isn’t going to help anyone.  Fighting at least helps everyone else, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

The man in front of him chuckles, turning around to offer a shy little smile.  “That’s exactly what I’ve decided, too.” This stranger is maybe a hair taller than Minseok but he’s wearing whimsical mouse ears that enhance his modest height.  His handsome face is blotchy and swollen, and a cute little Wishiwashi peeks shyly from behind the stranger’s shoulder.

Minseok returns the smile.  “Rough day for you, too?”

The man laughs wryly.  “It kills me every month when I send my kid back to my ex after having him for two measly days.  At least the Weather Trio can only kill me once.”

Minseok drops his gaze, shaking his head.  “Aw man, that sucks. I just split up with my ex, but we didn’t have any kids to fight over.”  He lifts his face in response to Minun’s nuzzle. “I didn’t forget about you, Mini-Min. You’re my baby, and I’m glad you’re with me.”

The stranger’s puffy eyes curve.  “Cute,” he coos.

“Yeah, he’s pretty precious,” Minseok agrees.  He lifts a hand to tickle Minun’s big blue ear, smiling when the little creature sets his fingers tingling gently in retaliation.  “Your Wishiwashi is adorable, too.”

The piscine Pokémon squeaks and ducks behind its trainer at the mention of its name, and the stranger turns to cluck at it soothingly.  “Would you believe he’s as powerful as a Mega Aerodactyl when he’s in a fight?”

Minseok’s eyebrows lift.  “Well, good for him. And good for us that he’s willing to battle for Seoul.  We’ll teach those roving Primal Pokémon not to underestimate us little guys.”

The stranger laughs and Wishiwashi floats higher, squeaking proudly while swishing in a perky little circle.  Minun sets off a cheerful spray of blue sparks, bouncing on Minseok’s shoulder.

“I’m Kim Minseok, by the way.” Minseok offers with a bow.

The stranger returns the greeting.  “Kim Junmyeon. You train electric types, then?”

“My strongest is an ice type, actually.  If you favor water, maybe we’ll end up in the same battle group.”

Junmyeon smiles.  “Washi’s my only 'Mon.  It’d be nice to know someone I’d be fighting beside—my friend trains fire-types, so we’ll probably be split up.”

Minseok tilts his head.  “Actually, I don’t think any of the Trio are weak to fire, so he’ll probably be assigned based on secondary types.  Do you know what they are?”

Junmyeon shakes his head.  “I hope they’re complimentary to ours—we can let him join our small-but-fierce brigade even if he’s way too tall.”  He waves at a lanky man stepping out of the mens’ room, who lifts a hand in acknowledgement before heading their way.

But Junmyeon’s wave evidently catches someone else’s attention, too, because an achingly-familiar voice calls Minseok’s name.

“There you are—thank God,” Jongdae pants as he limps to a halt.  He doubles over to catch his breath as Plusle and Minun leap at each other to collide in the air with happy sparks from both sides.  “I thought I’d lost you. I was so afraid—”

“What are you doing here, Jongdae?” Minseok spits, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Don’t you have a wedding to plan and a father to suck up to?”

Jongdae straightens up, mouth agape as if Minseok had slapped him.  “I—I’m here for  _ you _ , Min.  I had to make sure you’re safe.  There’s still a bus—”

“I’m not leaving,” Minseok states.  “Why do you even care what I do?”

Shocked, Jongdae blinks at him.  “Because—of course I care, Minseok.  You’re my… I…” Jongdae blushes and his eyes flick to Junmyeon, watching this confrontation with interest.  “You know…” he trails off quietly.

Minseok sighs, disappointed that the man his heart beats for can’t even give him a proper send-off to what’s essentially a suicide mission.  “Go back to your family, Jongdae,” Minseok says, turning away so he doesn’t have to watch his favorite face crumple.

 

##  Cute Charm

Chanyeol meant to go right back to Junmyeon, but that was before he saw an angel.  A dark, brooding angel, beautiful face frowning beside the Gothitelle wearing a concerned expression.  Chanyeol suddenly needs to know who had upset the ethereal creature so he can go punch them.

He doesn’t realize he’s started walking in the gorgeous man’s direction until he tries to lift a leg that won’t move.  He looks down to see his trousers in Pyroar’s teeth, feeling very judged by the look on the feline face.

“I have to see if he’s okay,” Chanyeol reasons.  “That’s our theme for today—making sad people happier, right?  We’re  _ helping. _ ”

Pyroar narrows his eyes over the fabric in his mouth.

“Come on, Roar.  Be a good kitty and help me cheer him up?”  Chanyeol knows it’s dumb to make puppy eyes at a cat, but Pyroar huffs and releases his grip.

Chanyeol grins at his firey friend.  “You’re the best 'Mon ever,” he assures the leonine creature, ignoring the irritated swish of Pyroar’s tail in favor of striding purposefully toward the frowning man.

“I’m Park Chanyeol,” he offers with a bob of his head as the stunning man looks up, evaluating him with dark-lined eyes.  “You’re way too pretty to be pouting, so I’ve come to cheer you up.” He displays his most winning smile.

The man rears back with a look of disgust.  “If you’re going to hit on me, go away.”

Chanyeol’s face freezes at the chilly reception.  “Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Um, I’m going to register with my Mega Blaziken.  What Mega-Evolution did you bring? Is it another psychic type?” He smiles at the Gothitelle, who answers with an enigmatic stare.

“Dark, actually, if you must know.  But it’s not a Mega-Evolution. It’s Legendary.”

“Wow,” Chanyeol says, feeling his jaw drop in admiration.  “That must have been really challenging to train.”

The pretty man shakes his head, reddish mullet not detracting at all from his beauty.  “I’m not training it. It’s haunting me.” He lifts narrowed eyes at Chanyeol. “Rather like  _ you _ are.”

Chanyeol’s face freezes, then falls.  Pressing his lips together, he nods once.  “Sorry to have bothered you,” he mumbles, dropping another bow before turning back to the registration lines.  

As he heads toward where he left Junmyeon, a fierce little guy with tears in his eyes pushes past him, a Plusle bouncing in pursuit.  He turns to follow automatically, but Pyroar chuffs at him and he freezes.

“You’re right,” he tells the red-maned cat.  “I’ve learned my lesson. No more helping—we’ll stick to the friend we’ve already made.”

“Wow, Mister!  Your Pyroar is so handsome!  I bet he’s really fierce in battle, too!”

A kid with a big smile and an even bigger Gengar comes barreling up to them, practically tackling Pyroar to the ground with an enthusiastic hug.  It’s Chanyeol’s turn to shoot his Pokémon a judging look as the beast rolls onto his back to offer this random kid his belly, actually  _ purring _ when the kid rubs the exposed fur.

The kid grins up at him, and Chanyeol can’t help but return the smile.  The kid’s awfully cute, and his Gengar is playing in the shadows between Pyroar’s paws, causing the chuffing cat to bat at the moving shade.

“Hey Mister, me and Gengar are gonna save Seoul with you guys but the guy at the desk said I’m too young to register by myself even though I have my official license and we even have a gym badge and a Mega Stone and everything.  Can I be on your team? Can we register together?”

Chanyeol snorts when Pyroar demonstrates that kitty eyes are way more effective than the puppy version.  “Sure, kid. Let’s go register.” 

 

##  Adaptability

Jongin can’t help but grin.  His Pokémon is finally evolved and now he has a new friend that’s going to let him and Gengy join their team.  He bounces on his heels a little as the Pyroar’s trainer points over toward the registration desks. 

“My friend is in line already—see the guy with mouse ears waving at us?”

Jongin nods excitedly, practically dragging Chanyeol over to where two men are watching the pair of them with amusement.

“You can’t help picking up strays, can you, Chanyeol?” the guy with mouse ears asks with a smile, and the guy in line next to him laughs.  There’s a Minun on the mouse-eared guy’s shoulder, shooting blue sparkles for a Wishiwashi to wriggle through while the other man tries to playfully pinch the fish-like ‘Mon’s fins.

Chanyeol gives both men a smile.  “Looks like you picked up a stray yourself, Junmyeon” he retorts.  “Between the two of us, we’ll form our own assault group by the time we get to the desk.”

But that’s not how it plays out at all.  In fact, the three of them are split into entirely different groups.  Junmyeon’s new friend, a guy named Minseok, turns out to be an ice-type specialist despite his adorable Minun.  Since ice types are strong against flying types and dragon types, he gets assigned to the flying dragon Mega Rayquaza’s group as an Offense member.  Junmyeon and his Wishiwashi end up assigned as Offense for the firey ground-type Primal Groudon, and the two step aside to wait for Chanyeol and Jongin to register together.

But the lady at the desk tells Chanyeol his fire type friends aren’t particularly effective against any of the three attackers.  They’re particularly ineffective against the firey Groudon and particularly vulnerable to the flying dragon, so he gets assigned to the Primal Kyogre’s group, albeit as a Support member since fire-type attacks won’t do much damage to the watery ‘Mon.

“There are several move tutors stationed just outside,” the lady at the desk informs him.  “They’ll be happy to teach your ‘Mon supportive skills if they don’t already know any.”

Lips pressed together, Chanyeol nods, then gestures for Jongin and Gengy to step up to the desk.  “I’m acting as his adult guardian,” he tells the lady. “So I guess we’ll both be in the Kyogre group.”

The lady looks at Jongin and Gengy with kind eyes.  “Hmm. Your ‘Mon isn’t going to be super effective against the enemies on its own, either,” the woman informs him.  “So you’ll be in a Support role, too. Does your Gengar know any support moves?”

“Gengy knows Night Shade, Shadow Ball, Lick, and Role Play,” Jongin answers as Gengy’s tongue leaves slimy cowlicks in his fluffy dark hair.  “He likes mimicking people, so I saved up until I could have the tutor in Busan teach him the last one,” he says proudly.

Suddenly, Minseok steps up beside Jongin, smiling tentatively down at him.  “I know you were hoping to register with Chanyeol,” he says. “But since he’s a Support member, too, I think you should be my partner instead.”  

Chanyeol nods reassuringly when Jongin’s eyes flick warily to his.  Gengy rumbles soothingly, pressing little hands against his shoulders in support.

Minseok smiles at the big purple blob, then back at Jongin.  “It’s obvious that you and your Gengar are really good friends, and I have this Technical Machine that’ll teach your pal the move Return.”

“What kind of move is that?” Jongin asks hesitantly, again looking to Chanyeol.

“It’s an attack move that’s more powerful the more bonded you are with your Pokémon,” Chanyeol answers.  “It’s a normal-type move, so it should be able to damage any of the attackers.”

“It would,” Minseok agrees, smiling gently at him.  “And if you wanted to learn it and register with Chanyeol, you could.  But my Glalie has the Refrigerate ability when he’s Mega-Evolved, which turns all normal-type moves to icy ones and gives them a little boost.”

Chanyeol grins at this even though Jongin is still baffled.  “That’s a great idea,” the fire-type trainer nods. “Your Gengar’s Role-Play move will let him borrow Glalie’s ability, and with how close you are with him, the two of you should be able to teach that flying dragon a thing or two about friendship.”

Jongin’s eyes flick back and forth between the two men.  Minseok looks nice, and his Minun is really cute.

“Okay,” Jongin nods, turning back to the registration lady.  “Gengy and I will learn whatever we need to in order to save Seoul.”

 

##  Analytic

Kyungsoo jumps as a guy throws himself onto the bench beside him, making his watchful Pokémon whir in alarm.  His heart’s racing and he’s a little pissed because he’d deliberately chosen this small, out-of-the-way seat because there was no one else here, and he’d rather wait alone for the lines to clear out than stand in that terrifying mass of  _ people. _

But now there’s a person in his space, sobbing wetly against the weathered wood.

Klink bobs meaningfully towards the man, like Kyungsoo is supposed to do something about that.

Kyungsoo shoots his Pokémon a look, then eyes the interloper warily.  An agitated Plusle is patting the man’s black hair with its little red paws, long ears quivering in distress.  It looks up at Kyungsoo with shiny button eyes, chirping at him pleadingly.

So unfair.  Kyungsoo might be able to ignore a human, but he could never neglect a 'Mon in need.  Sighing, he clears his throat.

“Uh, sir?  Is there something I can help you with?”

“Not unless you can turn back time and make me grow a pair,” the guy laments.  “I really, really let him down, over and over, didn’t I? Man, I’m the worst kind of selfish coward.”

Ugh, this man is having so many messy emotions and Kyungsoo doesn’t really  _ do _ emotions, he likes his nice reliable machines even if Klink does have entirely too much aegyo for a steel-type.  The manipulative little cog uses its aegyo on Kyungsoo now, whirring sadly and hovering over the distraught man.

“Maybe… you could stop being a coward?” Kyungsoo suggests, feeling painfully awkward and unhelpful.

The man lifts his head, eying Kyungsoo with dark eyes made more intense by being red-rimmed.  “How am I supposed to do that? If I admitted what I am and how much he means to me, I would have lost my job and my family.  Since I couldn’t, I lost  _ him. _ ”

Kyungsoo bites his lower lip, letting it slip slowly through his teeth.  “Um. Well. The city’s about to be smashed.”

The man blinks at him.

“I mean, even if we defeat the Weather Trio, there’s still going to be a lot of damage.  So, well. You probably won’t have a job? Or rather, a workplace?”

The man tilts his head, narrowing his eyes in a way that makes Kyungsoo feel even more uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.  “I just meant that, you know.  We might all die. So, um. If someone matters, maybe… tell them before that happens?”

The man blinks at him again.  Then he sits up, gazing at Kyungsoo intently, eyes flicking up and down as if studying him or something.

“If you think the city’s going to be smashed and we might all die anyway, why are you staying to fight?”

Kyungsoo shrugs.  “I guess… I decided I was done with hiding.”

The man’s eyes go wide.  Suddenly he stands up, nodding at Kyungsoo with a firm set to his jaw.

“You know what?  I am, too.”

He pivots on a heel and marches off the way he came, Plusle wiggling happily on his shoulder.

Klink whirs at Kyungsoo, and he tilts his head at the wee little cogs.

“I don’t know what you’re so thrilled about.  I have no idea what just happened.”

 

##  Friend Guard

“Sorry about your ex,” Junmyeon offers, just to have something to say.  

Minseok had been quiet ever since that Jongdae guy had stormed off, crooning softly to his forlorn Minun as they’d waited for their turn to register.  He’d only spoken up enough to coax Chanyeol’s new little friend to team up with him before lapsing into wistful silence once again.

Now he and the heartbroken man are sitting on some of the many folding chairs lining the repurposed library, waiting for Chanyeol and Jongin to see what support moves the trainers are offering.  The tall, handsome guy seems to make friends as easily as breathing, but Junmyeon doesn’t, so he’d rather not lose this tentative bond he seems to be forming with Minseok.

Minseok lifts his head and offers Junmyeon a strained sort of smile.  “Yeah, me too,” he says. “I hope he gets out safely, even though he’s an idiot.  I’m the bigger idiot for loving him for so long, anyway.”

He’s the same size as Junmyeon and before his ex showed up he’d been quietly confident, grimly determined, cool and sturdy in a way that seemed incredibly fitting for an ice-type trainer.  Now he looks so small sitting there all drawn into himself, shrinking away like a melting snowman. It’s triggering all of Junmyeon’s paternal instincts, so he wraps an arm around the man’s shoulders and draws him into a hug.  Who cares that they’re almost strangers? If they’re all going to lay down their lives for their country, they should at least get a last measure of affection first.

Minseok slumps against Junmyeon with a sad little sigh, returning the embrace with a squeeze.  “I told him I love him this afternoon. We had coffee together before that, and he seemed happy.  Hopefully that’s what he’ll enshrine as his last memories of me—of us. I want him to remember the good times and let those memories make him strong, not sad.”

He straightens up, but he leaves his arm around Junmyeon’s waist so Junmyeon leaves his around Minseok’s shoulders.  “I hope my son will remember me that way, too,” he says. “He’s so young—only six. I worry that he’ll forget me. Maybe my ex will help him remember if our sacrifice isn’t in vain.”

“It won’t be in vain,” Minseok states firmly.  “I’m not spending my Pokémon’s lives for nothing.”  Minun hops on his shoulder, miming jabs and kicks with a determined look on its little yellow face.  Minseok smiles up at it fondly.

Junmyeon smiles up at his own brave little 'Mon.  “That’s right. We’ll defeat the Trio and be remembered as heroes.  Maybe there will even be a holiday, and my ex will bring our son to the memorial and point out my name.  ‘Your Papa and his mighty Wishiwashi helped defend Seoul,’ he’ll say, and Sehunnie will be proud. He’ll brag about his heroic Papa to his friends.”

“I’m sure he will,” Minseok nods.  “And my Dae can tell people he lost his love in the attack.  Then he’ll get sympathy and support from his family and friends.  He never has to admit his love was a guy—there are plenty of women here.  He can pick one of them, a Kim Minhee or Minseo or something, and set flowers beneath her name.  We’ll both know they’re for me.” He leans his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder.

“I’m sure they’ll be beautiful,” Junmyeon says, leaning his head back against his friend’s, careful of the mouse ears he’d almost forgotten he’s still wearing.  

They breathe together for a moment, exhaling sorrow and inhaling peace into their very souls.  It works so well they don’t even startle when the ground shakes and the raid warning siren goes off.

 

##  Moody

For the first time in who knows how long, Baekhyun is not the most morose person in his immediate vicinity.  In fact, he’s the calmest person on the bus carrying this group of the Primal Groudon team to the north bank of the Han river.  Being chronically exhausted saps all the color from the world anyway, so things looking bleak isn’t anything new to Baekhyun. And if he dies, well, at least he’ll get to rest.

The man in the seat next to him is almost as calm, the only sign of his nerves one constantly-jiggling knee.  The guy’s wearing a dumb set of mouse ears and he’s actually  _ smiling, _ gazing fondly down at his phone as it plays a silent video of a giggling kid prancing around with a Swablu.

The guy’s occasional watery little laugh is really getting on Baekhyun’s nerves.  He gazes out the window of the requisitioned bus, but neither the upcoming battle nor the eerily-empty city beyond the glass are enough to distract him from the guy’s teary chuckles.

“I’m trying to sleep,” he snaps when the guy sob-snorts for about the four hundredth time.

The stranger jumps, looking guiltily over at Baekhyun.

“Sorry,” he whispers.  “Just wanted to see my son’s smile one last time before… well.”

Baekhyun curls his lip in disgust.  “Gross,” he sneers.

This makes the man’s face harden into a wounded glare.  “My baby isn’t gross,” he pouts. “He’s beautiful.”

Baekhyun returns his gaze to the window.  “So is everyone else’s,” he dismisses. “You’re not special, your kid’s not special, so shut up.”

“He’s special to me,” the man murmurs to his screen.  “I hope his memories of me are special to him.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes so hard he’s pretty sure he caught a glimpse of his own brain.  “Look, you loser. I haven’t slept more than a few hours a night for  _ months, _ and I have zero patience for or interest in you or your lame-ass kid.  I also have the only legendary ‘Mon in the city, and I’d prefer to have the wherewithal to direct him well enough to drag that overgrown lizard to hell along with us.  So shut the hell up and prepare to die quietly like everyone else.”

The man blinks at him stupidly, mouth agape, then shakes himself and sets his jaw.  “I’m not preparing to die. I’m preparing to send Primal Groudon to hell without me so I can see my precious Sehunnie’s smile again in person.”

“Not gonna happen,” Baekhyun dismisses.

“It might,” the stranger counters.  “Let a man dream.”

Baekhyun lets the briefest of smiles flicker over his own lips as he gazes out the window.  “Be careful what you wish for.”

 

##  Defiant

Out of the corner of his eye, Chanyeol observes the deflated heap of humanity slumped on the seat next to him.  It’s the fierce little dude that bumped into him earlier, and he’s heaving deep, mournful sighs that make the Plusle on his shoulder pat his face with its little red paws.

He probably shouldn’t interfere, but Pyroar is securely in his Pokéball so as not to overcrowd the packed bus any further.  There’s no one to remind him to mind his own business, so he drapes his arm around the startled man’s shoulders.

“I’m Chanyeol,” he says, smiling into the man’s baffled eyes.  “What’s your name?”

“Jongdae,” the guy mumbles.  “Um. Do I know you?” His shoulders twitch a little under Chanyeol’s arm.

“You do now,” Chanyeol grins.  “We’re going to look out for each other, okay?  It’s not hopeless, so take heart.”

Jongdae sobs out another sigh.  “It’s my heart that is hopeless—the man I adore is going to die without knowing I love him,” he mourns.  “I couldn’t find him before they split us into assault teams, and I’m going to go to my grave a coward who couldn’t tell his only love how he felt.”

Chanyeol cocks his head.  “Probably, with that attitude,” he admonishes.  “You’ve got to think positive.”

The man snorts.  “Minseok always thinks positive,” he mumbles.  “But I never could.” 

“Minseok?” Chanyeol asks, eying the Plusle on the guy’s shoulder.  “You mean the ice-type trainer with the Minun?”

Jongdae twists to look up at him.  “You know him?”

“Just met him today,” Chanyeol admits.  “But he doesn’t seem like the type to go down easily.  He’s teamed up with a kid to increase the power of their ice attacks, and he seemed quietly determined to kick that dragon’s ass.”

Jongdae gives a strangled bark of wry laughter.  “Quietly determined is Minseok’s signature. He used to say he didn’t need to talk since I chatter enough for the both of us, but I couldn’t say the one thing he needed to hear from me.”

“All the more reason to win instead of die,” Chanyeol states.  “You’re gonna prove you’re not a coward by helping to put that poor tortured Kyogre out if its misery.”  He grins down at the shorter man. “After that, telling Minseok how you feel will be a piece of cake, right?”

Jongdae swallows another sob, then squares his shoulders under Chanyeol’s arm.  “Minseok is tough—he’s not going to let that twisted dragon take him out. He’ll survive, and then I’ll tell him.  Even if Seoul is a mountain of rubble when this is over, I will climb to the top and scream out how much I love him.”

Chanyeol grins.  “Now you’re talking.”

 

##  Moxie

Jongin’s excitement has started to crumble into nervousness a little bit, even though he’s got his Gengy right there with him in his ball clipped to his belt.  His new friend Minseok is right there with him, too. The ice-type trainer’s hand is warm on Jongin’s shoulder as they make their way down the aisle of the bus that will take them to the north end of Seoul.  

They’re going to intercept the Mega Rayquaza before the twisting dragon can knock down the city like a monster in a movie.  But this isn’t a movie. This is real life, and Jongin’s starting to wish very much that his dad were here.

But Jongin is a real trainer, and his Gengy is excited to blast that silly dragon with their new move combo.  They won’t be afraid. They’ll stand strong and brave and fight for Seoul and for the Republic of Korea, and if the city gets knocked down they’ll just build it back up again, bigger and shinier than before.

He brightens up even more when he sees the quiet man who traded with him sitting on the row of seats that crosses the entire back of the bus.  He’s pressed against the window, not looking at anyone getting on the vehicle that used to take people to work but that’s about to take trainers to the battlefield instead.

Jongin plops himself down beside the startled man with a smile, happy to have another friend with him on this scary adventure.  He tugs Minseok into the seat on his other side so he’s sandwiched between the two men. He trades a reassuring smile with the ice-type trainer before turning his grin to the guy with the gear-like friends.

“Hello again, Mister.  I’m glad you’re in my assault team.  We’ll look out for each other, right?”

The man is staring at Jongin almost like he’s speaking another language, but the little Klink floating near his head whirs and the man eventually nods.

That’s all the permission Jongin needs, and he leans against the man just a little; just enough to gain a little comfort from the steady presence of the strangely-silent man.  The man flinches, but he doesn’t tell Jongin to move, so Jongin closes his eyes and tries to relax. Minseok’s hand wrapped around his does a lot to help him calm down.

“I’m Minseok,” the ice-type trainer offers over Jongin’s head.  “It’s an honor.”

“I’m Jongin,” Jongin opens his eyes to introduce himself with a polite bow.  “Please take care of me!”

There’s a long pause into which the Klink whirs.  But finally the large-eyed man bows toward them a little.  “I’m Kyungsoo,” he says. “And I have a plan.”

 

##  Drought

Junmyeon is sweating as he crouches behind a parked car, careful not to lean against the sun-heated metal.  It’s almost nightfall, yet the firey orb seems to glare at them from the horizon, heating everything until it may as well be noon on the hottest day of the year.

But the heat is only part of the problem.  The bigger issue for Junmyeon is how  _ dry _ it is.  His own sweat seems to be the only moisture around, and even that’s leaving a dusting of salt behind as it evaporates from his skin.  There are only a few Pokémon still actively attacking the constantly-roaring Primal Groudon—the rest of the survivors have fallen back to regroup.  Washi, jaw-droppingly magnificent in his schooling form, is hovering low to the ground in an alleyway, burbling quietly to itself. Themselves. 

Evidently, the schooling ability doesn’t make Junmyeon’s original Pokémon more powerful so much as it summons more Wishiwashi from who knows where, all of which swarmed around Washi to form a giant fish made of little fish.  How they work in tandem is beyond Junmyeon’s comprehension— _ he’s _ not the famous trainer, after all.  He’s just a guy trying to defend his city from a magma monstrosity, which is pretty damn impossible when none of their offensive water-type abilities work.  

This unexpected invulnerability must be why the DPRK felt confident enough to attack.  It’s not just that they have a Trio of immensely powerful Pokémon, but that they’re nigh invulnerable.  Junmyeon has no idea what to try next—he’s not a strategist. Even if he were, Washi, while powerful, doesn’t have a very diverse repertoire of tricks since he’s a pure water-type.

Pure water sounds really good right now.

It’s so hot that the street to Junmyeon’s left is shimmering a little, a mirage of water over the sea of asphalt.  Junmyeon knows it’s not real, so he stays crouched behind the car, relatively safe from the chunks of concrete and steel the Primal Groudon keeps flinging into the city.

One of the chunks takes out a Mega Audino, trainer and Pokémon shrieking in unison as the fluffy cloud-like creature is crushed against the pavement, flickering before warping back into the Pokéball in the sobbing trainer’s hand.  Another chunk of building lands close enough to shake Junmyeon’s shelter on its tires, and he hisses as the burning steel rocks against his knee.

He shies away, ending up treating his palms to a similar sensation when they contact the asphalt sticking to Junmyeon’s shoes.  When the next makeshift missile lands less than three meters away, Junmyeon makes a break for Washi’s alleyway. He huddles in his Pokémon’s shadow, picking gravel out of his palms and tearing his jeans away from his blistering knee.  They’re meant to be fighting, not slowly cooking under this solar assault, but what can they possibly do? How can they possibly win?

Junmyeon rests his stinging palms against Washi’s lamellar flanks, letting the cool undulations of the watery Pokémon sooth his abused skin.  He closes his eyes and thinks of Sehun; how whenever his little Swablu is around, the weather is always perfectly clear, not too hot, not too cold.  He’d thought the ability convenient for their walks in the park, but something like that would sure come in handy in the middle of this fight.

Not that he wishes Sehun and his pal were here.  On the contrary—he’s only so at peace with his impending immolation because he knows his precious son is safe.

But being at peace with one’s death isn’t the same as wishing for it, and Junmyeon is determined to hold out as long as possible, hoping for some miracle.

“Soak me, Washi,” he begs with a voice as cracked as desert earth.

Washi obliges, and Junmyeon moans with the relief of it, able to think actual thoughts as the water evaporates from hair and clothes, taking the worst of the heat with it.  His mouse ears wash down over his face and he shakes the droplets off the black plastic before putting them back on, smiling a little as he does so.

“I hate you  _ so much, _ ” comes a familiar strident voice.  

Startled, Junmyeon turns around to see the short-tempered guy from the bus.  He’s standing in the alley behind Junmyeon along with a smirking Gothitelle, scowling up at a terrifying Pokémon Junmyeon’s never seen before.

 

##  Damp

Jongdae is soaked to the bone but he still lifts his face up to meet the deluge falling from the twilight sky.  A heavy downpour seems to follow the Primal Kyogre wherever it goes, making poor Chanyeol’s fire attacks completely useless.  He and his sodden Mega Blaziken look absolutely pathetic, two gangly, bedraggled creatures doing their best to contribute from beneath the foot of a bridge. 

The chicken-like humanoid at Chanyeol’s side looks especially pitiable, his red and black plumage and his glorious creamy mane currently slicked flat against his slender form instead of fluffy and majestic.  Still, the Pokémon is as much fighting-type as it is fire, and the Mega Blaziken’s beady eye glints fiercely in the light of the setting sun.

They’re not the only ones having a hard time.  Most of the grass-type ‘Mon—expected to have the advantage against the watery Primal Kyogre—were frozen by a surprise ice beam, and they haven’t been able to thaw since the heavy rain is preventing any fire-type moves from working.  The battle is down to the electric-types dishing it out while the remaining survivors do their best to support them, but there’s a heavy cost to the effective energy. Many of the electric-type trainers have passed out, unable to handle their electric Pokémon in this hyperconductive environment.

At Jongdae’s side, Mega Manectric crouches defiantly, electricity arcing from spike to spike along its back.  The air is wet enough and Jongdae is wet enough that his own skin is crawling with the energy his Pokémon is emitting, and Jongdae’s hair tingles where it’s plastered to his forehead.

“Charge!” he shouts over the downpour, and the tingling sensation increases.  

Jongdae’s nerves scream and his locked muscles protest as the blue hound-like Pokémon rises to its feet, jagged yellow projections from hips and head and back jutting slightly higher than Jongdae’s head.  He grits his teeth to keep from crying out as his Pokémon gathers electricity from the storm, pulling the energy into its spikes until the tips glow blue with humming plasma.

A round of applause echoes in Jongdae’s ears over the sound of his own rushing blood and he raises his hand in thanks toward the pair beneath the bridge.  He waits for the Primal Kyogre to pulse a huge gout of water over the city in an attempt to hit the ghostly Mega Banette hazing it from the air. 

“Now!” he shouts to Mega Manectric, and the hound releases the stored electricity with a howl that rolls like thunder, white-hot bolts searing up to the boiling clouds.  This triggers an amplified jolt of searing plasma that sizzles from the sky to strike the Primal Kyogre with precision, pulling a wretched scream from the electricity-vulnerable water type.

The Kyogre thrashes, slapping its flippers against the surface of the river as it writhes in agony, sending waves washing over the banks of the Han to flood the surrounding park, pathways and flowerbeds disappearing beneath the displaced water.

Jongdae turns to thank Chanyeol again for having Mega Blaziken power up Mega Manectric’s attack in lieu of wasting energy on his own, but they’re nowhere to be seen.  

Where the pair had been standing, there’s now just an ominous amount of water slowly draining back into the Han river.

 

##  Air Lock

The winds swirling around the Mega Rayquaza are so strong that most Pokémon get blown out of the air, smacking into the sides of the skyscrapers below with sickening thuds.  It’s even difficult for the trainers to maintain their perches on sky decks and balconies and rooftops, but Kyungsoo isn’t worried about blowing away. His three gear-like pals are basically sitting on him, pinning his thighs to the ledge he’s sitting on.

It  _ hurts.   _ The weight of his solid metallic friends is doing a great job of holding him down but also cutting off his circulation, and his lower legs are both numb and electric with agony.  Kyungsoo does his best to ignore it, waiting for Minseok’s Mega Glalie, Jongin’s Mega Gengar, and the few other Pokémon still able to move to lure the target to the chosen spot.

It’s slow going, the Mega Rayquaza content to hover and dance in the air, waiting for the hazing Pokémon to get close enough to snap between its jaws, toying with its harriers like a cat with a swarm of circling butterflies.  They haven’t been able to do much damage as most of the heavy-hitters are grounded, but it looks like Minseok and Jongin have finally been able to get their mark’s attention.

Minseok’s Mega Glalie, a two-meter high floating face resembling a terrifying cross between a goalie mask and a bear trap, is both heavy and perforated, meaning the fierce winds blow through the Pokémon without pushing it around too much.  Jongin’s Mega Gengar is just the opposite, made of ghostly shadows that the violent gusts can’t disrupt. The young trainer must have an incredibly strong bond with the ‘Mon to be able to hug and touch the incorporeal creature the way he does.

Which is excellent, because after copying the Refrigerate ability from Minseok’s Mega Glalie as planned, the Mega Gengar’s Return attack is even more powerful than the Mega Glalie’s own.  Minseok has instead directed his ‘Mon to shield and guard the Mega Gengar while it shoots beam after beam of friendship-powered ferocity at the twisting dragon.

Eventually, the Mega Rayquaza snaps, breaking formation to ascend up and away from the puny little Pokémon giving it so much grief.  Kyungsoo frowns. This isn’t the ideal situation—he’d have preferred to lure the dragon over a park or some other open area that wouldn’t be susceptible to too much collateral property damage.  But strategies must be adapted when the situation changes, and he can’t let the dragon slip past to ravage the rest of the city or join up with the two Primal Reversions.

It’s really too bad.  The trainers and ‘Mon had done their best, and now they’re going to be in harm’s way.

“Get ready,” Kyungsoo calls to the steely Pokémon behind him, and his Metagross Mega-Evolves in a hiss of pneumatics and a whirr of gears.  The faceted spheroid body is incredibly heavy so it doesn’t budge in the wind even as it magnetically levitates behind him. More pneumatics pop as the four clawed limbs spread into a cupped X, looking ready to close in on some fearsome prey.

But their target today isn’t some catchable, crushable thing.  It’s a massive constantly-contorting dragon, and Kyungsoo is done letting it toy with them.  

Before the dragon can turn its elevated altitude into a devastating attack, Kyungsoo does it first.

“Do it!” he yells to Mega Metagross, undefeated champion of his college’s steel-type gym.  With a sound like a rock being twisted apart, a swirling singularity appears in the Mega Rayquaza’s shadow, and the dragon screams as it’s drawn to earth by the point of amplified Gravity—along with everything else in the vicinity.

 

##  Insomnia

“If you won’t go away, can’t you at least be  _ actually useful? _  That clump of stinking fish is more helpful than you are, you sorry excuse for a Legendary.”

Darkrai merely hovers before him, an implacid nightmare of smoke and soot that is the bane of Baekhyun’s existence.

He glares at the creature that steals his sleep and haunts his dreams.  This fight should have been easy, boring, ho-hum, and then everyone else could get back to their families and Baekhyun could get back to wishing he’d never been born.

But evidently the DPRK has guarded against every weakness possible, because the stupid Primal Groudon keeps screeching in a way that continuously reverberates off the buildings, making it impossible for anyone to sleep even with a dream-eating Pokémon’s heavy-handed help.  And since Darkrai can’t send the Primal Groudon to sleep, he can’t swallow its subconscious, leaving it hollow and listless and non-threatening. 

Evidently, that fate is reserved for Baekhyun alone.

Gothitelle chimes at him insistently, and Baekhyun sighs and buries his face in both hands.  The crashing thud of a chunk of marble-faced concrete startles him from his blind indulgence, and he huffs as he strides over to the schooling Wishiwashi and the mouse-ear bedecked trainer lurking beneath.

“Look, I absolutely hate my agonizing existence but I guess I don’t actually want to die and I’m guessing you don’t either.  So I’m going to do something I swore I’d never do, and then you and I are going to go be magnificent heroes. Got it?”

The water-type trainer nods, fretful old-man face smoothing out into coed cute.  “Just tell us what to do, Boss,” he salutes.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes.  “Give me a minute to humiliate myself.”

Turning to Gothitelle, Baekhyun holds out her Pokéball.  “Get in,” he commands that smug lavender face. “I’m not watching you gloat while I eat my words.”

With a sassy little swish, the Goth princess pops into her ball.  Baekhyun glares up at Darkrai, still merely hovering as if this were a lovely outing in the park.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to go away and leave me alone forever if I break your ball again?”

The evil smoke-genie shakes its cloudy evil head.

Baekhyun sighs.  He thought he’d ask before he wasted another Great Ball.  The nightmares were worse if the damn ‘Mon was completely uncontained, so deliberately binding it to himself seemed the lesser of two evils.

“Fine,” he snarls, then pulls the last Pokéball from his belt.  

“Cosmoem, I choose you—even though you’re a worthless piece of snuff.”

A palm size lozenge of golden arcs appears on the dirty concrete of the alley, a dark cosmic blob contained within.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” he mutters, then chucks a rare candy at the unmoving chrysalis.

It bounces off only to be retrieved and devoured by Darkrai, and Baekhyun is about to launch into a tirade of invective when the Cosmoem basically explodes.

 

##  Torrent

“Chanyeol!” Jongdae calls, scrambling over the rain-slick ground to get to the bridge footing that had sheltered the other man.  He doesn’t know this guy, had barely met him, but he’d been optimistic and helpful when Jongdae had been neither.

He owes this guy, even if he’ll never be able to repay it now.

The situation looks bleak, no sign of man or ‘Mon clinging to anything near the bridge or further downstream.  The river is swollen and angry and rushing away with tumbling debris. If Chanyeol went in, odds are he’s not coming back out.

He turns back toward the Primal Kyogre, stalking up the hill toward the corrupted ‘Mon as saline joins the raindrops drenching Jongdae’s cheeks.  When he has a good view of the cobalt-blue orca-like beast, he widens his stance and sets his jaw.

“Manectric—use Electric Terrain.”

Mega Manectric whimpers, giving Jongdae soulful eyes but knowing better than to nuzzle his trainer in these conditions.

“We need to boost your attack and end this,” Jongdae insists.  “I can take it.”

Another whine, but soon Mega Manectric’s sparks are dancing all over the grass around them—and crawling up Jongdae’s legs.  He grits his teeth, ignoring the twitching tingle as he keeps his eyes locked on the Primal Kyogre icing over the Mega Sceptile that had managed to thaw itself in vain.

“Charge,” he commands.

Mega Manectric whines mournfully as he obeys, drawing in crackling power that sets the sodden hill singing with voltage.  Jongdae’s muscles lock, holding him rigid as the electricity flows through him to squeeze a scream from his chest.

The burning pain doesn’t matter.  The only thing that matters is stopping this fight; saving the city.

“Not yet,” Jongdae gasps out when Mega Manectric whimpers at him.  “More power—keep going.”

Jongdae hopes Minseok forgives him.  

He screams again, a wail forced around clenched teeth and bleeding tongue.  Just a little more—he needs to give Mega Manectric the command before he lets go himself.

There’s a pop from his hip, a shrill and angry squeak, and then Jongdae’s body goes limp as he rises up off the ground.

Startled, he looks between his floating feet to see Plusle standing with a scowl on its adorable face and its little red paws against its hips.  More squeaky reprimands are thrown up at Jongdae along with angry red sparks.

“Sorry, Plusulie,” Jongdae apologizes.  “I keep forgetting you can do this.”

More irate squeaking.  Mega Manectric sounds entirely amused in the background.

“You learned Magnet Rise when Minseok took you and Minun to the Poké-Park—I was on that business trip.”

More squeaking and sparks, but Plusle’s lecture is interrupted by Mega Manectric’s bark.  

Jongdae looks over to see that blue plasma is hissing away from all of the discharge Pokémon’s spikes.  

“Thunder!” Jongdae calls, pointing at their aquatic target.

Mega Manectric’s booming howl rolls out over the river as lightning is arced through the sky, amplified by the altered terrain, the storm, and the charging maneuver.

The Primal Kyogre’s agonized cry sounds like the shearing song of an iceberg and its body goes rigid.  

“Yes!” Jongdae shouts.  “Manectric, Charge again!”

He’s gonna take this poor bastard out.  He’s gonna find his Minseokkie. And as soon as it’s built and every year until he dies, Jongdae will lay flowers at the memorial in Chanyeol’s name.

 

##  Sheer Force

Minseok knew he’d be risking his life when he volunteered, but the possibility of mortality never felt very real.  He’s been in hundreds of Pokémon battles with his Glalie, and each one was a puzzle to be solved or to succumb to. He’s had to revive Glalie; shell out cash to the nice people at the Pokécenter to get him all fixed up.  But nobody’s ever died. That’s not what battles are supposed to be about.

Training Pokémon isn’t supposed to be about domination, either, but that’s what it’s evidently become in this case.  Dominate noble creatures and break them, warp them so they’ll help dominate the land and people the DPRK insists belong under their thumb.  Well, Minseok refuses to be subjugated.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t think he can refuse to be slain.

He doesn’t want to be slain, and he’s done his best to avoid it.  He’s stationed himself in a parking structure just underneath the uppermost floor.  He figured if each floor is rated to support the weight of a hundred cars, it’d probably be sturdy enough to protect him from the falling debris swept up by the wind-generating Pokémon.  And several large chunks have indeed shattered against the roof or crashed into the support pillars, leaving him with a few scratches on his forearms but otherwise unscathed.

He has the feeling that’s about to change.

The Mega Rayquaza is caught in a Gravity well, being pulled inexorably downward, but it’s not going without a fight.  It’s screaming as it’s forced to dive, which is just as well because all the land-bound combatants are alerted to bolt for cover.

Minseok doesn’t bother.  If he were already on the street, he’d feel confident he could book it out of the worst of the blast zone, but he has ten flights of stairs between his feet and the sidewalk.  Every floor he descends will only add to the weight of the cement on top of him, but if he goes up to the roof, he’ll likely get thrown, and it’s a long way down.

He’ll likely die anyway, but if he stays here, he figures his corpse will be the most recognizable.  He’d like his parents to have something to bury. He’ll even try to shield his face to make identifying his body the least traumatic he can.

He hopes Jongdae is safe.  Stupid boy can’t swim, so he’ll hopefully stay well back from the river and have his Mega Manectric call down lightning from high ground.

He doesn’t bother to wipe away the tears leaking down his cheeks.

“Keep Jongin and Gengar safe, Glalie,” he calls to his Mega-Evolved Pokémon.  “If Return doesn’t seem to work as well after a while, use Ice Beam, but keep going.  I love you. Don’t give up.”

Those are all the words he has time for before the writhing body of the dragon crashes into the ground.

For a moment, nothing happens.  He has time to blink, to notice a primal scream from the direction of the river.

And then the shockwave hits, knocking Minseok off his feet and out of his head.

 

##  Dazzling

Junmyeon can only gape in a rather Washi-like fashion as a huge white lion explodes out of the palm-sized gold-ringed capsule.  It roars triumphantly, then glares down at the resentful guy that summoned it.

_ You have kept me prisoner, Byun Baekhyun, _ it accuses, the words echoing in Junmyeon’s head.   _ Why does your mind lurk so in the dark? _

“In the dark, no one can see me,” the guy says.  “But the darkness isn’t a refuge for me anymore.”  He scowls at the floating smoke-demon creature that is slowly backing away from the huge, radiant lion.

_ You are a prisoner, too, it seems. _

The mulleted man curls his lip at the ground but doesn’t disagree.

The scream of shearing stone interrupts as a chunk of concrete impacts a building faced in marble.  The white Lion lifts his massive head to regard the Primal Groudon throwing a tantrum three hundred meters away.  

_ Ah.  Your need is great, so you let out the beast?  One to combat the other? _

Baekhyun nods.  “Our home is in peril.”

_ Protecting one’s pridelands is imperative, _ the lion agrees.   _ I will aid you, but you must come into the light. _

“I’m in the light!” Baekhyun gestures to the burning eye of the setting sun.  “I’m  _ so _ in the light.  It’s abysmally hot and I’m parched and sunburnt, see?”  He holds out his bright pink forearms for inspection.

The rumble in Junmyeon’s mind seems amused.   _ Then I will grant you this boon, and one other:  I will burn away the shadow that haunts your dreams.  If I thus free you, you will free me in return. _

In answer, Baekhyun tosses the empty Pokéball in his palm to the ground, then crushes it beneath his heel.  Another chunk of building clips the end of the alleyway, sending a spray of dust and debris over the huddled group.

_ I will away, _ the lion says, but the last Pokéball on Baekhyun’s belt pops open to release the Gothitelle.  She has a Technical Machine disc in her mitts, and she offers it up to the Lion.

The enormous cat inclines his head.   _ A fitting move for Solgaleo, _ the lion agrees, accepting the gift.

“Solar Beam?” Baekhyun says incredulously.  “Where did you even get that?”

Junmyeon remembers seeing that move used a lot in the Pokémon Contests he and Washi entered.  “That’s a grass-type move, right?”

Baekhyun turns to him with a little start as if he were surprised to see Junmyeon there, then his face breaks into a boxy smile that transforms him from brooding bad-boy to boy-next-door.  “Yes—now our plan is even better. If you and your fishy pal use Soak on our grumpy Groudon, it will douse some of his power beneath the heat of this sun. And coincidentally, it will make him more vulnerable to grass-type moves.”

“I’m on it,” Junmyeon promises, moving off through alleys and side streets until their target is in clear view.  Baekhyun, the Gothitelle, and Solgaleo follow closely, ready to attack as soon as the Primal Groudon has been weakened by Washi.

With an enthusiastic wiggle, Washi douses the surprised magma lizard in a deluge of river water, pulling a ringing bellow from the irate beast.

Solgaleo squares his stance and flares his magnificent mane out around his face, ready to hit the Primal Groudon with the full power of the sun.  But before he can do so, another leonine Pokemon appears from the direction of the river, looking vaguely damp and rather like it got hit by a truck.

It looks really familiar and it’s making desperate little attention-getting snarls as it drags itself up to their little group, initially focused on the pair of humans.  But when Solgaleo turns his mighty head to look down at the small, dark version of itself, the Pyroar gets distracted.

_ Hello, Little Brother, _ Solgaleo projects.  

The bedraggled little lion flops down into an adoring bow.  Junmyeon can practically see the hearts floating up over its head.

 

##  Stall

Chanyeol has been clinging to the body of his Blaziken for what feels like hours, long enough to run out of tears and for his body and heart to go numb.  His precious little Torchic; the one he’d been given on his tenth birthday by Apgujeong’s resident Pokémon professor. The cute little orange ball of firey feathers that he’d carefully raised, that he’d learned to bake Poké Puffs for, that he’d taken with him everywhere.  The funny little Combusken that had cheered him up when he’d been sad, suffered through the awkward teen years by his side, and never complained about how he’d practice his guitar for hours.

The noble friend, loyal unto death, who’d refused to recall into his Pokéball if that meant letting his trainer be washed away by the river.

Instead, he’s tangled against a bridge piling in a nest of sticks and other debris, lodged in place by soggy feathers that aren’t warm anymore.

And Chanyeol is angry.  He’s angry because it’s stupid—so selflessly  _ stupid _ —for Ziken to have sacrificed himself when Chanyeol’s only going to die anyway.  He can’t pull himself up, can’t even feel his toes anymore, and his right arm is most definitely broken.  He’s going to freeze to death or fall asleep and drown, wasting his Blaziken’s life along with his own.

He could have tossed Ziken’s Pokéball up onto the bridge above him like he’d done with Pyroar’s, his left hand dextrous enough to do so thanks to all that guitar practice.  Then both his friends could be found by new trainers and be safe. He hopes Pyroar’s ball is found by someone nice, someone who’ll brush his mane for hours to keep it fluffy and glossy the way he likes it.  Someone who’ll let him roam around outside his ball sometimes, just to hang out and see what all the cool cats are up to.

Chanyeol also hopes the sun will go the rest of the way down soon, so he doesn’t have to stare at muddy red feathers anymore.  So he doesn’t have to see the broken body of the Lopunny next to them, creamy bunny ears stained with blood despite the relentless current.  So his gaze doesn’t linger on the rectangle of red fabric wrapped around the piling on the very edge of the river, the one that he’s trying to convince himself is a Chinese flag or a random pillowcase instead of a T-shirt covering an unmoving torso.

But at least Chanyeol can shut his eyes or avert his gaze.  He can’t shut his ears, and although his left ear seems muffled, the right one works just fine.  Fine enough to hear the way Ziken had yelped when the jagged wood had stabbed into him instead of Chanyeol, how his coo had been more of a gurgle when he’d refused to recall, how his throat had rattled as he died.  Fine enough to hear the Camerupt on the northern bank bellowing for a trainer that would never again answer. And now he’s hallucinating his own Pyroar’s worried hissing snarl somewhere overhead.

He’s not hallucinating the fin in the water, though.  He didn’t think the Han had Sharpedos, but—wait.

Is that one giant fish, or a bunch of little ones?

 

##  Rock Head

Jongin’s head hurts.  It hurts a  _ lot _ and when he puts his hand up to his forehead it’s sticky.  His whole face is sticky and he feels like he might want to throw up.

“Gengy?”  

He’s calling for his best friend before he opens his eyes.  Immediately, a relieved rumble fills his ears and he can feel stubby fingers brush his face.  One of his eyes doesn’t actually want to open because his eyelashes are crusted together, but he can see that he’s inside the little cafe he’d been running past when the Mega Rayquaza had hit the ground.  

How did he get in here?

It’s really dark in here, so the sun must have gone down.  Or maybe it’s because the windows are bashed in and blocked with what looks like a whole other building.  The door isn’t bashed in but it’s blocked, too. He’ll have to go out the back door and try to find his friends.

He pushes himself up off the floor, carefully so as not to hit his painful head on the broken table he’d ended up beneath.  Dragging himself on his elbows, he wriggles out from the little sheltered triangle and stands up.

He drops to his knees again, incredibly dizzy.  And then he throws up, retching over and over and adding banana milk and kimbap to the dust and debris covering the tile floor.  He keeps retching after his stomach is empty, the kind of twisting, painful heaves that leave muscles sore for days.

When he finally stops, he decides he’s just going to  _ crawl  _ to the back door.  

His stomach threatens to twist again if he moves his head too quickly, especially when he turns it from side to side without thinking.  But he manages to slowly crawl around behind the counter, pausing every few meters to wait for the room to stop spinning so much. 

There’s a cooler behind the counter, the kind with sliding glass doors, and it’s filled with bottles of water and soda and juice and flavored milk.  He has to close his eyes when he sees the banana milk, even though he can’t even see the yellow of the carton because it’s so dim. He saw the banana outline on the front, and the back of his tongue remembers how it tasted mixed with his stomach acid.

But he lingers in front of the cooler, eyes closed, arguing with himself.  Stealing is wrong, and whoever owns this cafe is already going to be sad that they have to fix the windows and clean up a big mess.  But Jongin is really, really thirsty, and his mouth tastes all yucky from throwing up.

He doesn’t have any money with him—he’d left all his stuff in the train station locker and had only taken a little cash to get a snack (hence the puddle on the other side of the counter).  But Jongin does have his Pokémon trainer’s pouch, and inside that he has a berry. It’s a special Kasib berry, native to Busan, that protects against ghost-type Pokémon like Gengy. Surely that’s worth enough to trade for a bottle of water.

The cooler is dark and silent like the rest of the cafe but the bottles inside are still cold.  Jongin takes one of the really big bottles, leaving the Kasib berry in its place.

“Thank you,” he says out loud.  “I’m sorry if that’s not enough, but I really need this water right now.”

No one responds (which is good; that would have freaked Jongin out) so he just shrugs and breaks the seal on the bottle.  It tastes clean and fresh and he swallows down a couple gulps in a hurry, something his touchy stomach evidently does not appreciate.  It rolls again and Jongin waits, eyes squeezed shut, willing the sensation to pass without forcing his stomach to empty. It settles eventually, and Jongin decides to wait until he gets outside to drink any more water.  He doesn’t want to throw up on the floor again.

It’s hard to find the back door in the dark—not even the exit sign is lit up.  He ends up in an office and then a closet, but finally his fingers brush against a metal door instead of a wooden one.  It has a lever handle instead of a knob, and Jongin is already sighing in relief as he rises up carefully on his knees to pull the door open.

The handle gives way easily but he has to work to tug open the heavy door, each jerk sloshing the water in his tummy and jarring the pain in his head.  He’s afraid it’s stuck for a scary moment, but finally he manages to pull hard enough to jam his knee in between the door and the frame. It’s still dark, so the sun must really have gone down.  Still, Jongin will be glad to be out in the open where his friends can find him.

Except when he tries to slip through the door, he runs smack into something hard blocking his way.  His head reels, and he folds over to heave the sloshing water out of his stomach.

 

##  Solar Power

Baekhyun’s not heartless but he cares much more about this stupid blinding lion taking care of the Primal Groudon rather than cooing over somebody’s stray ‘Mon.

“Aren’t you Chanyeol’s Roar?” Junmyeon asks, and that seems to shake the not-as-big cat out of its stupor.  It starts snarling and growling and pawing at Junmyeon and Baekhyun and even Solgaleo, obviously trying to get someone to follow it.

_ This Little Brother says his trainer is stuck in the river, _ Solgaleo interprets.   _ Caught against the leg of a bridge. _

“Washi can save him, can’t you, buddy?” Junmyeon declares.

The shoaling Pokémon burble an affirmative.

“Then we’ll go—we’ve Soaked the Primal Groudon, and that’s the only useful thing we can do here,” the water-type trainer decides.  “Good luck!”

_ Good fortune to you as well, noble friends, _ Solgaleo projects as Junmyeon runs for the river, fish and feline following in his wake.

Then, the brightest Pokémon in the world finally turns toward the Primal Groudon and roars, that searing white mane absorbing the angry glare of the setting sun and releasing it as a focused laser.  It punches into the Primal Groudon, tracing radiant lines of pain across already magma-striated flesh.

The Primal Groudon howls in agony and the ground shakes violently beneath their feet.  Baekhyun only narrowly avoids being brained by falling debris thanks to Gothitelle’s chime of warning.  Despite the quaking earth, Solgaleo maintains focus, moving his maned face like a satellite dish to direct the searing laser at the Groudon’s most vulnerable spots.

It’s bright and brutal and Baekhyun can’t stand to watch.  He turns away and covers his ears to muffle the sounds of the Primal Groudon’s suffering, beyond relieved when the gut-wrenching shrieks are cut off for good.

The earth stills, the debris settles, and Baekhyun dares to open his eyes.  “Did you—Uh, is it dead?”

Solgaleo shakes that giant head.   _ It disapparated, likely back to the ball from whence it was released, _ he projects.   _ Speaking of balls, you should destroy the one our dream-devouring menace has been sheltering in.  Now that your pridelands are safe, it’s time for a different sort of hunt. _

“There are two others,” Baekhyun says, but the lion shakes his head again.

_ I and the nightmare are the only legendary brethren for many kilometers, _ Solgaleo promises.   _ Stay in the light, Bright Brother Byun Baekhyun! _

With that, the dazzling lion leaps toward a slip of shadow around the corner of a half-collapsed building.  An alarmed hiss emanates from that direction, then a ferocious growl, then the sounds of galloping paws, growing softer as they fade away.

Gothitelle chimes inquisitively at Baekhyun.

“I’m not injured, just sunburnt and dehydrated,” Baekhyun says.  He pivots to return to where they left the bus (not that he’s at all sure the vehicle is still there, much less in drivable condition).  Then he pauses, turning his head in the direction of the river.

Baekhyun sighs.  “If you want to heal someone, I’m betting a guy caught against a bridge piling probably has a bruise or two.”

He sighs again when Gothitelle chimes smugly at him, but he follows his only Pokémon—only friend at all, really—as she flits toward the river.  But instead of heading toward the bridge, she twirls on the bank that sodden debris reveal was recently underwater. 

Confused, Baekhyun approaches his dancing friend.  On the muddy ground at her feet is a golden-brown five-pointed star, the red gem in the center flashing a slow SOS into the gathering night.

“Go on, then,” Baekhyun nods, and Gothitelle sends a pulse of healing into the downed Pokémon.  The star brightens, illuminating the area around them with a gentle glow.

Stay in the light, indeed.

 

##  Clear Body

Kyungsoo’s not sure how he managed it, but he comes back to himself sprawled out on the gentle slope of a grassy median, arms and legs spread as if he were planning to make snow angels in the rubble.  He opens his eyes to see three sets of gears and a giant metal contraption staring at him.

“Sorry, guys,” he wheezes, still a little woozy from having the air knocked from his lungs.  “Uh. Are we alone?”

Metagross emits a reassuring metallic squeal, though Kyungsoo supposes if his mental gears had been churning up to speed, he could have surmised their safety by the fact that his strongest ‘Mon had devolved from its Mega state, something which only happens when combat is over.

Kyungsoo flops onto his stomach, then slowly pushes himself to his knees and then his feet, taking internal inventory as he does.  He feels rather like he’s been hit by a truck (or a been knocked off a high-rise by a plummeting Pokémon), but everything seems to be working aside from some residual ringing in his ears.  His loyal friends must have caught him with magnetic force, lowering him rather than letting him fall.

“Thanks, guys.  You always take such good care of me.”  Kyungsoo looks around, but he’d been isolated over here in the hopes that the falling ‘Mon would miss the highest concentration of assembled trainers instead of coming down right in the middle of them.

“Lets go look for signs of life,” he decides, trudging toward the area of impact.  

As they make their way around heaps of concrete and glass and metal, Kyungsoo steels himself and calls out occasionally, pausing to listen for any type of reply from anywhere.  The calls are answered by a woman who’s trying to lift a lamp post off of another trainer, a Sylveon and a Vaporeon huddled together nearby.

Metagross easily lifts the downed light, but the woman underneath was gone long before they arrived.  All Kyungsoo can do is apologize as the woman sinks to her knees, keening in agony as the Eeveelutions curl around her for comfort.  

Feeling sad and awkward and very alone, Kyungsoo and his metallic companions slip away to look for other survivors and maybe some type of transportation out of the ruined city.

The next Pokémon they encounter isn’t accompanied by a trainer, but it is very familiar.  It’s Jongin’s Gengar and it’s evidently glad to see him. Rumbling imperatively, it swoops around Kyungsoo before floating towards a low building buried beneath the remains of its neighbors.  

As they get closer, the Gengar fades through the buckled walls before phasing back out, rumbling again.

“The kid in there?” Kyungsoo asks the agitated 'Mon.

It nods its entire being.

“Metagross, can you make a hole?”

Metagross dips its body in the affirmative, then makes a noise akin to an explosion.

Kyungsoo nods, then turns to the Gengar.  “Better get him all the way to the other end of the building just to be safe,” he tells the ghost-type.  It rumbles in response before phasing through the rubble again.

Metagross uses Hyper Beam, taking a moment to charge up the vaporizing laser before blowing a hole clean through the rubble pile and out the other side.

“Struth,” Kyungsoo breathes.  “I forgot how powerful that move is.”

Metagross shudders in amusement.  

A moment later, a blood-covered Jongin crawls out through the still-smoking hole.

“Thanks,” the boy says, then collapses into the dust.

 

##  Soul-Heart

Even with the multiple ways Jongdae is amplifying Mega Manectric’s power, it still takes a long time for the Kyogre to go down.  He has to dig a couple of elixirs out of his training pouch and toss them down to Mega Manectric and Sulie, needing to keep their stamina up so they could continue fighting (and keeping Jongdae afloat).

It goes much faster once a few of the plant-types manage to break free of their icy shells now that the paralyzed Primal Kyogre can’t renew them.  A Mega Sceptile and a Mega Venusaur in particular are super effective, slicing at their opponent with leafy blades in the former case and draining away the Primal Kyogre’s vitality to replenish its own in the latter.

Finally the poor thing collapses with a last heart-wrenching bellow, making Jongdae feel more than a little guilty for sending it right back to the people who’d tormented and warped it so badly in the first place.  But then he realizes that the city is comparatively quiet; no sign of any shaking land or occupied sky, and Jongdae finally realizes they won.

They did it—they saved Seoul.  Well, more like they saved  _ part _ of Seoul, and completely destroyed several significant portions.  But Jongdae survived, his Pokémon are fine, and while he mourns for Chanyeol and his Blaziken, his gut is twisted due to someone else’s unknown fate.

Minseok.  He has to get to Minseok.  Alive or dead, Jongdae’s place is at his side.  How could he possibly have snubbed that handsome, caring man for a job that wears him to the bone and a father who probably won’t ever fully approve of Jongdae no matter what he does or doesn’t do?

He doesn’t need that job in particular—getting fired and having to look for another one would suck, but Jongdae has savings.  He could ride it out for the sake of being with Minseok openly. He doesn’t need his father’s approval, either. He’s lived with scraps of it for so long, having none of it can’t be that different.

But he needs Minseok.  He needs him like breathing, like opening his eyes on a new day, like sunshine rising in his soul.  He needs to find him, to tell him how he feels, to promise to never again make him feel like he’s a shameful secret Jongdae would rather die than reveal.

He’d rather live, with his Min at his side, in that cozy little apartment even if that Han guy sticks around.  He wants to wake up beside his love and press tiny kisses to that perfect face until it scrunches with annoyance.  He wants to end every day with his face buried against his lover’s shoulder or neck or chest or hair.

There isn’t any other option than to turn toward the spot where the dragon had been brought down, feet moving of their own accord as soon as they touch the ground.

His feet are touching the ground because Plusle is exhausted, and Manectric isn’t much better.

“Thank you for your hard work,” he tells both of them.  “Back in your balls to rest now, my friends.”

Manectric obeys with a grateful sigh, but Plusle stubbornly shakes its head.

Jongdae doesn’t try to argue when he’s feeling the same electric urge to find his other half.  Instead, he just scoops up the little moppet, cradling the limp yellow body against his shoulder while he sets off to find his soul and offer his heart.

 

##  Pressure

Minseok wakes up groggy and in pain, having difficulty focusing on his environment.  After a moment of blinking and coughing, he realizes that’s because it’s completely dark.  Not too surprising, considering night had probably fallen. And also considering a parking structure had definitely fallen, Minseok a reluctant passenger.

That’s probably why he can’t move his right arm or leg, though an excruciating amount of pain is jangling his nervous system from both places, making tears leak from his eyes and his breath come in unsteady pants.  The tears are actually a bit helpful, since they wash the dust from his eyes so he can try to see a little better. The breaths are unfortunately rather painful, but they’re nothing compared to the screaming originating from his arm and leg.

_ Well, shit. _

Minseok hopes that the poor Rayquaza was actually defeated if he’s going to pay for his participation like this.  He has no idea where he ended up, how deeply he’s buried, if anyone saw the structure go down with someone inside, if anyone will notice he’s missing.  

Mega Glalie is probably still out there doing his thing, hopefully managing to finish off the downed Mega Rayquaza with the help of the land-bound trainers.  Glalie knows what to do—he’ll follow his trainer’s last orders like the excellent team player he is. Minseok is content that, regardless of his fate, his steadfast friend will help send the invading ‘Mon back to its ball.

Pokéballs!  He still has Minun clipped on his belt, and he can just manage to reach the little one’s ball with the fingertips of his left hand.  Gasping in pain as he twists, he tugs the Pokéball free and holds it out to his left where there seems to be an empty space.

“Minun, I choose you,” Minseok coughs, voice coming out choked and gravelly.

Minun materializes, shooting sparks that illuminate the tiny space they’re in just enough for the little yellow 'Mon to see its trapped trainer, and before they fade Minseok can see his devoted friend put its tiny blue paws over its mouth.

“Mini-Min,” Minseok rasps, trying to give his pal a smile.  “Can you do me one last favor? Can you see if there’s some way you can squeeze out of here so you can take Glalie’s ball to safety?”

Minun squeaks, sparks pouring from its paws in distress.

“I know, sweet Mini.  But I don’t want you two stuck down here if they don’t find me in time.  Give your balls to Junmyeon, or you can find Jongdae and go with him and Plusle.  If either of them made it.”

Minun is crying now, but Minseok is starting to get a little dizzy and he’s worried that his oxygen is running out.  He needs to help his sparking friend get free so he can feel like he fulfilled his duty as a trainer, at least.

“Here, take the pouch so you can carry both balls—there’s some medicine in there, too.  If you can’t find a way out, smash Glalie’s ball so he’ll be free, then get back in yours.  Hopefully someone will find you when they start clearing the rubble.”

Minun does free the pouch from Minseok’s belt that usually holds treats and berries, poking and prodding the empty Pokéballs until they’re tucked securely inside.  But then the little thing just clings to Minseok’s face, washing it with its tears.

“You’ll be okay, Mini-Min,” the trainer attempts to soothe his friend.  “Please do this for me, okay? Go quickly now, and pay attention so you can tell them where to find me.”

Find his body, to be accurate, but he’s not going to say that.  The only way Minun will leave him is if the little one thinks there’s a chance to save its trainer by doing so.  And indeed the little Pokémon perks up, ears quivering in determination as it scampers around, looking for crevices big enough to fit through.  

Minun must have found something, because while Minseok can’t see the wee beastie, he can hear an excited squeak and then some scrabbling noises before silence is his only companion.

He tries to calm himself, tries to close his eyes and breathe slowly, not sure if that will conserve the oxygen in this little pocket or if he’s hastening the end.  In either case, he’d rather face death with dignity rather than panic, so he plays the happiest memories he has to himself. Maybe when they find him, he’ll be smiling.

He starts with that night in the tent with Jongdae, reliving how his stomach kept flipping every time his brand new boyfriend looked at him shyly through those gorgeous lashes.  Their first kiss was so awkward, all bumped noses and giggles and fumbling through it together. So was their first time years later, but the feeling of elation when he’d sent Jongdae’s spirit soaring was something he’ll never forget.  

He’d been proud of that; how he’d been able to please his lover even though he was shy and awkward and had no idea how to touch anyone that wasn’t himself.  But Jongdae had made it fun and easy, just like he did everything, at least before the pressures of adulthood seemed to sometimes flatten him into a cardboard caricature of the guy that Minseok loves.

And now Minseok’s the one being flattened, and he’s sniffling and huffing out wry laughter as he tries to ignore his predicament and lose himself in his thoughts.  It’s becoming disturbingly easier to ignore his arm and leg as the trapped limbs go numb, and Minseok pretends that’s a good thing rather than a bad one.

Good things are all he’s allowing himself to think about.  Like the hotpot that Han makes for them sometimes, the spicy broth searing on his tongue.  And the time FC Seoul won the AFC Champions League and the two of them had jumped around in the living room like idiots even though their opponent was Han’s second-favorite Chinese team.  

And the few times Jongdae had stayed over at the apartment and Minseok got to take him slowly apart beneath satin sheets.  Or let himself be devoured by the beautiful man, so hungry for the love and affection he keeps choosing to deny himself to maintain his standing with his family and his peers.

Jongdae’s such an idiot.  Minseok really, really hopes he’s alright.  

He hopes Minun manages to find someone kind who’ll take care of it if Jongdae’s gone.  They’d caught the pair so young that he’s not sure they’d survive if they were released, especially without the other.  They don’t do well without their polar opposite, though Minun puts up a brave front, turning to Minseok to meet his need for cuddling and affection in lieu of the positively-charged Pokémon that’s usually well out of his reach.

Minseok doesn’t mind being a stand in.  In fact, he rather enjoys hanging out on his sofa with the little blue and yellow cutie draped over his chest or wrapped around his head or tucked up under his chin.  It’s rather like having a cat, except more tingly.

So even though some part of his brain is screaming in concern when tiny paws are once again patting his face, Minseok can’t help but be grateful.

“Mini-Min,” he murmurs, lips curving into a smile even though they’re pressed into the dirt.  “Love you.”

 

##  Blaze

It’s hard to tell in the fading daylight, but Chanyeol thinks the glowing piscine eyes circling around him are familiar.  Therefore, he doesn’t panic nearly as much as he expects when, after nudging the debris aside, the huge fish (fishes?) swallows him up along with Ziken’s body.

Or his lack of reaction could just be his body going into shock.

Swimming through air instead of water, the Wishiwashi(s) transport their burden over to the bank before dispersing, leaving one concerned-looking piscine watching him with watery eyes.

“Holy ow,” Chanyeol says after a single attempt to move.  

Then he’s being crushed again by a wriggling lionesque Pokémon that both steps on his junk and licks him across the eye.  Neither fact reduces the joy in Chanyeol’s heart to be reunited with his Roar—especially considering the leonine beast is radiating heat.

“So warm,” Chanyeol moans, teeth chattering as he twines his fingers into Roar’s fur and hugs him to his chest.

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea,” a familiar voice says as a reddish light illuminates the riverbank more clearly.  “We really need to get you warm.”

If Chanyeol weren’t in so much pain, he’d be tempted to suggest skin-to-skin contact with the grumpy angel, even if he’s pretty sure it would only get him smacked.

“Are you injured, or just cold?” the angel asks, bending over Chanyeol’s supine form.  There’s a glowing starfish-shaped ‘Mon in the angel’s arms, evidently the source of the reddish light.

“Hurt,” he admits.

“Gothitelle, do your thing.”

Chanyeol can feel a pulse of warm energy envelop him and then his body is washed with sweet relief.  He tries to sit up again, still rather stiff but once more in reasonable working condition.

When he manages to pull himself upright, he wants to cry for a whole new reason.  Junmyeon, still wearing the cheerful mouse ears in contrast to the solemnity of his task, has laid Ziken’s body out on the bank.  His old friend looks so pitiful with all his feathers clinging to his long, slender limbs.

“The rain has stopped,” Junmyeon murmurs.  “So Pyroar could probably help you give him to the fire.”

Chanyeol nods around his shivers, forcing himself to his feet.  “I’ll help gather the wood—moving around will help me warm up, anyway.”

The three humans work in respectful silence, piling wooden debris around and on top of Ziken’s body until the last feather is hidden from view.  Chanyeol nods to Roar, who uses his Flamethrower move continuously until the sodden pile dries enough to catch fire.

It takes a while, but eventually the pyre is roaring enough that Chanyeol feels more than warm enough again.  He’s sure the flames will do their job of transforming Ziken’s body into the ash to which all eventually return.  Satisfied he’s done his best for his friend, he turns to head for the night-draped city, uninterested in watching the body burn and unworried about the fire spreading in such a waterlogged environment.

But as he turns away his gaze is caught by a drooping face just outside the circle of firelight.  It’s the lonely Camerupt, the twin volcanoes on its back glowing gently from the coronas.

They eye each other for a minute, then the stumpy-legged camel-like beast turns to trudge away.

“Wait!” Chanyeol calls after a moment’s internal debate.

The bereaved Pokémon turns around, flicking a curious floppy ear.

“Um.  I guess I have an empty Pokéball.  So you could come with us, if you want.”

The other ear flicks and twin plumes of ash emerge from the Camerupt’s nostrils.  Then it takes a few steps toward Chanyeol, waiting with its head down. Chanyeol holds out the ball, and the Camerupt hesitates only a moment before entering Ziken’s old home.  Fighting back a fresh wave of tears, Chanyeol clips the ball back on his belt.

“Still picking up strays, I see,” Junmyeon murmurs from beside him.

Chanyeol can only nod, but the tiniest hint of a smile drifts across his face.  “The buses that dropped off the Kyogre team should be back upstream a ways,” Chanyeol suggests.  “If they haven’t been washed away, the emergency kits might be useful.”

“That’s as good a destination as any,” Junmyeon agrees.

With the star-shaped ‘Mon in the angel’s arms lighting their way, the three humans head upstream trailed by the other Pokémon.  They walk in silence for a while, until Chanyeol no longer feels the glow of the pyre at his back.

“Thanks,” Chanyeol says, voice a little thick.  “For saving me. And for helping me say goodbye.”

“Of course,” Junmyeon says.  

“Yeah, well.  I guess you’d have done it for me,” the angel says.  “I’m Baekhyun, by the way.”

Chanyeol and Junmyeon volunteer their names as well, and Chanyeol feels the lump in his throat slowly melt away.  He may have lost a dear friend today, but it seems he’s well on the way to gaining several new ones.

 

##  Magnet Pull

Even Kyungsoo knows that a head injury plus unconsciousness isn’t good, but he has no way to heal anyone that’s not a Pokémon.  Wishing he could recall the injured boy into the stasis of a Pokéball until he finds a medic, Kyungsoo does the next best thing, scooping the child up and laying the senseless form over Metagross’s back.

As soon as  Kyungsoo has done so, there’s another dramatic impact nearby.  

Thankfully, it’s only a Minun and a Plusle throwing themselves at each other, squeaking and sparking and crying and carrying on, illuminating their surroundings with flares of red and blue.  They’re quickly joined by an out-of-breath man, the same one that had emoted all over Kyungsoo earlier today.

“Mini-Min, I’m so glad to see you,” the man pants.  “Where’s Min? Why are you carrying his pouch?”

Ah, Kyungsoo has enough pieces to start to put this puzzle together.

“You’re looking for Minseok,” he calls out before he realizes what he’s doing.

The man spins to regard Kyungsoo with surprise that blossoms into hope.  “I am! Have you seen—holy shit, is that kid dead?”

Kyungsoo turns to Jongin in alarm before he realizes the bloody boy’s appearance is probably quite startling.

“He’s still breathing for now,” Kyungsoo says.  “But he obviously hit his head pretty hard. I’m worried he’s slipping away.”

“Dude, that sucks.”  The man’s eyebrows flick upward in concern.  “I’m Jongdae, by the way. I mean, you know Minseok so you probably know that, but just, well, officially.  Nice to meet you.”

Kyungsoo raises a brow.  “I’m Kyungsoo. Minseok never mentioned your name specifically, but there was a lot of under-breath muttering about ‘that idiot.’”

Jongdae looks rather sheepish.  “Yeah, that would be me. Which is why I have to find him—Minun, quit freaking out and take me to Min!”

The distraught little MInun scampers off even closer to the impact point, and Kyungsoo purses his lips.  This doesn’t bode particularly well for the ice-type trainer. Nor does the bewildered looking Glalie, much less intimidating in its unevolved form.  It’s hovering in one spot, vocalizing anxiously, then hovering in a new spot to repeat the call.

“We’d better go help,” Kyungsoo tells his metal mates.  “I bet the poor guy’s buried, and that hyper electric guy is going to freak the hell out.”

Metagross moves carefully in order not to jostle his precious burden, so by the time they catch up to Jongdae and friends he and the Plusle are pawing at a massive pile of rubble that may once have been a high-rise parking structure.

“Here, Sulie?  You’re sure?”

The Plusle nods emphatically, rubbing its chest with its little red paws before pointing down at a particular patch of rubble.

“Good job.  Can you Magnet Rise this big slab out of the way?”

The Plusle shakes its head sadly, shoulders slumping.

“Then we’ll lift  it,” Kyungsoo announces as he and his Pokémon approach.  “Get out of the way so Metagross can do his thing.”

Plusle can’t or won’t move from the spot, and Kyungsoo supposes the negatively-charged Pokémon has burrowed beneath the rubble to act as a homing beacon for its counterpart.  But Metagross needs space to work, so he nods to Jongdae and gestures at the anxious red-eared ‘Mon. Jongdae obediently scoops up the fretting little thing and cuddles it, murmuring soothing things to it as Metagross gets to work.  

Kyungsoo has no idea how deeply the ice-type trainer is buried, so instead of the Hyper Beam he directs Metagross to break and lift the debris with its Metal Claw.  As a tunnel opens up, the Plusle gets more and more squirmy until it finally slips from Jongdae’s grasp to go charging into the pile of rubble beneath which Jongdae’s friend lies.

Jongdae hesitates for a moment, chewing on his own knuckle, before disappearing into the concrete cavern.

 

##  Honey Gather

When Plusle darts into the wreckage Jongdae can’t help but follow, even though he’s terrified of what he’ll find.

What he finds is Minseok lying face-down in the dirt, an arm and a leg disappearing beneath a wall of debris.  He looks so pale and still as the little electric 'Mon hop around and squeak in distress that Jongdae’s sure he’s lost the love of his life; the lover he never deserved.

Then Minseok coughs.

Jongdae’s on his knees beside his precious love in seconds, gesturing for the Metagross to free Minseok’s limbs as Jongdae strokes gently through his hair.  His fingertips catch in sticky clumps and Jongdae winces even as he does his best to reassure the injured man.

“Min, I’ve got you,” Jongdae assures him.  “I love you and I’ve got you and I’m never letting you go again.”

Minseok coughs out something that sounds a lot like “idiot” but Jongdae doesn’t care what the man calls him as long as he’s alive.  That doesn’t mean he’s not sickened to death about his darling’s injuries, but even if he loses either limb or both of them, Minseok will still be okay.  

Jongdae will  _ make _ him be okay.

Thankfully, as the rubble is cleared away it becomes evident that the trapped limbs are just broken, not crushed, and Jongdae uses his basic Army first aid skills to locate some boards among the debris, breaking them to length and binding them around Minseok’s shin and forearm to attempt to immobilize the fractured bones.

“Sorry,” he murmurs when Minseok whimpers as he tightens the strips of cloth torn from the ruins of his pant leg.  “I love you, and I’m so, so sorry. About everything.”

“Idiot,” Minseok grumbles.  “You’re the least romantic guy ever.  This is the worst confession. I want a damn refund.”

Jongdae laughs, releasing all his nervous energy.  He gathers his injured love into his arms and carries him out of the rubble, murmuring reassurances when Glalie swoops in to rumble in alarm over his semi-conscious trainer.  

“Thanks, Kyungsoo,” Jongdae says sincerely, bowing his head to the shorter man.  “I’m sure he would have died if not for you and your ‘Mon.”

“I’m glad we found him in time,” Kyungsoo agrees.

Jongdae strains his eyes in the darkness, looking around as Minseok lolls in his arms, unsure of where to take his love for medical attention.

Then a reddish flare streaks up through the air from somewhere near the river, twinkling like a star before descending again.  

“What’s that?” Jongdae wonders aloud.

“I’m not sure,” Kyungsoo responds, eyes on the horizon.

A moment later, the shooting star once again streaks upwards, sparkles at the peak of its rise, then drops back down out of sight.

It happens a third time, and both men reach the same conclusion.

“A beacon,” Kyungsoo states, already moving toward the bouncing light.  

“I think that’s about where the buses dropped the Kyogre team,” Jongdae adds, carefully picking his way through the debris so as not to jostle his precious burden overmuch.  “If they’re still there, that could be our ticket out—if one of the engines isn’t too waterlogged.”

“My ‘Mon can probably get something working,” the steel-type trainer says.

Jongdae’s shoulders drop with relief.  “You really are the hero of the day,” he says.

He wishes the moon were brighter tonight.  He’s terrified he’ll twist his ankle and drop Min because he can barely see where he’s going.  Minun and Plusle do their best to help, Min’s blue-eared friend shooting sparks from Jongdae’s shoulder while Sulie does the same for Kyungsoo.  But both of the ionic ‘Mon are low on energy, their red and blue sparks growing weaker and weaker. Unfortunately, both trainers are out of remedies, having used their entire supply during the battle.

At least the star keeps bouncing high into the sky so they know which direction to head, although their path is circuitous due to the downed buildings and the layout of the city streets.  Minseok dangles limply from his arms, unconscious or asleep despite Jongdae’s efforts to talk to him. But Jongdae can feel Minseok’s heart ticking steadily if a bit weakly as he clutches the other man to his chest.  

Jongdae’s exhausted and all his muscles ache from being repeatedly contracted by stray electricity.  He’s remaining on his feet and moving by sheer selfless determination and he stumbles repeatedly, each time barely managing to right himself without dropping his poor broken love.  Glalie rumbles every time from behind him, whether in consolation or condemnation Jongdae isn’t sure.

Every time he sees the star shoot up, it seems just as far away, and Kyungsoo evidently shares his sentiment.

“Glalie, would you please go to the glowing star and see if there’s anyone there that could come out to meet us?  We need a light at minimum, and maybe some medicine to rejuvenate our friends.”

Rumbling in agreement, Glalie shoots toward the glow as if launched by a slingshot.

 

##  Illuminate

The Primal Kyogre had evidently not gone down easily.  In addition to washing its opponents away, it had evidently done the same with two out of the three busses.  The remaining vehicle has been knocked onto its side, much to Baekhyun’s annoyance.

“At least the doors are facing up,” Chanyeol says, then uses his long body to pull himself up and drop down through the gaping doors into the sodden vehicle.  He’s followed closely by Baekhyun’s new Staryu, making the whole bus glow.

They can see Chanyeol moving around in the vehicle and several minutes later he’s shoving a pair of military-drab tackle boxes up onto the elevated side of the bus.  He clambers up himself, then lowers the boxes down to Baekhyun and Junmyeon before hopping back to the pavement.

The boxes are drenched, so the three of them settle in a circle on the asphalt, spreading out the contents and evaluating what’s trashed versus still potentially useful.

“Do you think the Groudon team’s busses would have more?  I mean, they would probably be dry, right?” Chanyeol asks.

Baekhyun snorts.  “If by ‘dry’ you mean ‘on fire,’ then sure.”

Chanyeol’s face falls.  “I have no idea where the Rayquaza busses ended up.  I really want to find a hotel with working electricity and running water.”

Junmyeon pats his knee.  “Washi and I can help you with the running water part,” he offers with a wink.

“No thanks,” Chanyeol shudders.  “I think I’ve been subjected to enough of the river’s charms for a lifetime.”

“This bus is still a better shelter than any of the damaged buildings, I guess,” Junmyeon decides.  “We can probably spend the night in it, with Chanyeol’s help.”

“If we met someone with a big ‘Mon, we could probably get it back on its wheels,” Chanyeol posits.

Baekhyun purses his lips.  Even if the other survivors think to look for the busses, there’s no guarantee a big ‘Mon will end up at theirs.  

“Well then, we’d better see what we can do to increase the chances of that happening,” Baekhyun sighs.  He doesn’t relish deliberately surrounding himself with a bunch of injured, needy strangers, but they have some first-aid supplies and a little bit of Pokémon medicine, at least.  Solgaleo would probably be annoyed if Baekhyun didn’t at least attempt to help his fellow trainers.

“Staryu, can you bounce into the sky so other survivors can see you?” Baekhyun asks.  “Might as well get everyone together to pool resources.”

Staryu has been bouncing for about half an hour when an agitated Glalie swoops into the circle of its light.

Chanyeol and Junmyeon look at each other, then back to the Glalie.  

“Minseok?” Junmyeon asks, holding onto his mouse ears as he tilts his head up to look at the hovering ‘Mon.  “Are you Minseok’s friend?”

The Glalie bobs an affirmative, then makes little motions away from the bus back into the darkened city.

“Does he need help?” Chanyeol guesses, and the Glalie bobs an affirmative again.

Chanyeol and Junmyeon must be fond of this Minseok, because they’re ready to dart off into the unknown immediately.  

“Wait, you morons!” Baekhyun calls.  “Take these glowsticks so you can see where you’re going.”  

The sealed plastic tubes hadn’t been affected by the water, and moments later Chanyeol and Junmyeon are each wearing a neon green light on a lanyard around their necks.

“Gothitelle, will you go with them, please?  Their friend may be hurt.”

The lavender-faced Pokémon swishes her black ruffled skirt, then drifts toward the volunteer rescue team.  

“I’ll stay here with Staryu in case anyone else comes,” Baekhyun tells them.  “Go. Find your friend.”

 

##  Healing

Junmyeon can hear them before he can see them.  They must have a big steel-type with them, because there’s a lot of pneumatic, motorized sounds in a slow, steady rhythm.  Minseok’s Glalie is hovering in the air up ahead, round white face reflecting moonlight like a miniature version of the celestial body.

The moonlight doesn’t make it down to the rubble-strewn streets, but the glowsticks are doing an impressive job of lighting their path.  Junmyeon and Chanyeol are moving through the smashed city as quickly as they safely can. If Minseok needs help, Junmyeon will provide it—that’s what friends do.

So when they skid around a corner onto a wider street and they can see faint blue and red sparks in the distance, both men put on a burst of speed.

“Minseok,” Junmyeon calls as shadows resolve into a Metagross flanked by two trudging silhouettes, one with a limp form dangling from a precarious grip.

Both men lift their heads and Junmyeon recognizes the sharp cheekbones of Minseok’s ex as a shower of dull blue sparks drifts from his shoulder.  Which means the body he’s about to drop is—

“Minseok!” Junmyeon says again as he dives to catch his friend.  

“I got him,” the ex insists, right before stumbling on something in the road.  Unable to catch himself, Jongdae grimaces, twisting his body so that his back will hit the ground instead of Minseok’s face.

But thank the stars for Chanyeol’s overly-long limbs.  He’s got Jongdae under the shoulders before Jongdae’s body tilts past forty-five degrees, supporting the pair just long enough for Junmyeon to wrap stabilizing arms around his friend.

“Let me take him,” Junmyeon begs.  

In the light of the glowsticks, it’s readily apparent that Minseok’s ex is completely wiped, but he tightens his grip stubbornly until he lifts his head enough to see who’s caught him from behind.

“Chanyeol?” Jongdae squeaks, and Junmyeon takes advantage of his surprise to tug Minseok’s unresisting form into his own arms.

“Jongdae,” Chanyeol greets with a grin and what’s probably a crushing hug based on the grunt Jongdae releases.

“How are you here?  I thought for sure you’d be a ghost-type.”  Even when wrapped in Chanyeol’s embrace, Jongdae’s arms blindly reach for Minseok.

“I did, too,” Chanyeol admits.  “Are you alright?”

“Minseok,” is all Jongdae says, but Gothitelle is already chiming reassuringly by Junmyeon’s side.  

The unconscious body in Junmyeon’s arms jolts, then groans as wide feline eyes blink open.

“Minseok,” Jongdae says again, managing to squirm out of Chanyeol’s arms to cup Minseok’s cheek.

“Dae,” Minseok murmurs.  “You owe me a much better date.”

“You have a healer?” a new voice interrupts.  “Please, can you help my… friend?”

Gothitelle abandons Junmyeon’s elbow to approach the Metagross, where a wide-eyed man is standing next to a bloody body draped over the big steel ‘Mon.

“Shit, is that Jongin?” Chanyeol gasps, leaving Junmyeon to support both a groggy Minseok and a swaying Jongdae.

“Let me shift him to my back,” Junmyeon suggests, even as Jongdae once again tries to take hold of Minseok.

“I’ll carry him,” Jongdae persists in a tone that’s veering toward a whine.

“Let Junmyeon help, Dae,” Minseok murmurs.  “You’re not in much better shape than I am.”

Jongdae hesitates, looking Junmyeon up and down with narrowed eyes.

“Fine,” Jongdae grits out, lifting Junmyeon’s mouse ears from where they’d fallen back around his neck and resettling them on his head.  Then, still grumbling, he helps to position Minseok comfortably on Junmyeon’s back. There’s a yelp from Minseok and a scolding from Jongdae when Junmyeon hikes his friend’s weight higher, locking his forearms under Minseok’s thighs.

“Drop him and I’ll end you,” Jongdae snarls, threat made entirely laughable since Junmyeon suspects one stiff breeze would knock the guy on his ass.

Junmyeon huffs.  “Minseok is my friend.  Carrying him safely is my priority.”

“Come on, Jongdae,” the Metagross’s trainer says, wrapping one of the swaying man’s arms over his shoulders to steady him.  “You did well—your friend will be alright.” 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Jongdae corrects.  “I love him.”

“Love you, too,” Minseok mumbles against Junmyeon’s shoulder.

The four of them start down the road along with Chanyeol, who is cradling a still-bloody Jongin in his arms.  Plusle and Minun have perched on Chanyeol’s shoulders, fascinated with the tall man or the drowsy boy (or both).  Jongin’s Gengar is hovering at Chanyeol’s shoulder in a way that mirrors Glalie’s presence at Junmyeon’s back. Baekhyun’s Gothitelle, evidently worn out from all the healing, has perched on top of the Metagross, who is ambling down the street at a much-increased pace now that the injured boy is no longer its responsibility.  Pyroar is bouncing around up ahead, pretending to hunt Washi who is pretending to be entirely unaware. And three varieties of gear-shaped Pokémon, evidently also belonging to the Metagross’s trainer, are flitting around excitedly over their heads, whirring happily.

It’s a strange procession, to be sure.  Junmyeon can’t stop smiling, though. Minseok will be alright, Jongin will be alright—poor kiddo—and this Metagross should be able to right their overturned bus.  Ahead of them, Staryu lights up the sky with another bounce, guiding them back to Baekhyun.

Junmyeon snorts.  Baekhyun is going to be so surprised.

 

##  Aftermath

Jongin’s head still hurts but it’s much better than it was in the cafe.  He’s not at all sure how he got from the cafe to where he is now, though he suspects it has to do with his friend Kyungsoo.  He’d come to help Jongin when he’d been trapped, and Jongin had managed to say thanks before he’d collapsed—his momma would be proud.

She’s probably going to be mad about all the blood and dirt on his clothes, though.  He’ll have to find a laundromat before he goes home.

Jongin’s still a little dizzy and vaguely nauseated but he can turn his head now with only a vague urge to puke.  His vision is a bit blurry in the eye that had been stuck shut. He can open it now but the blurriness makes him more queasy, so he keeps it shut as he tries to make sense of his surroundings.

Gengy is hovering right in his field of view, immediately reassuring Jongin that things are probably okay if his best friend looks so calm.  And his friend Chanyeol is the one carrying him, so Jongin’s not afraid even though he’s way up high since Chanyeol is so tall. 

He is a little embarrassed, though.  He’s also a little bewildered but he can see Minseok, his mighty battle partner, being carried on Junmyeon’s back.  Jongin feels less like a baby for having to be carried himself.

Jongin’s not sure who all of these other people and Pokémon are, but most of them seem to know each other.  It’s only Kyungsoo who’s not chatting with anyone, even though he’s helping a guy walk. The guy Kyungsoo is helping is only looking at Minseok, and the two of them are mumbling to each other too quietly for Jongin to understand what they’re saying.  Junmyeon is talking to Chanyeol, and whenever the tall man answers Jongin can feel his deep voice rumbling through his chest.

“Thanks for helping me, Chanyeol,” Jongin almost whispers into a break in the conversation.  He doesn’t want to interrupt but he doesn’t want to forget to tell his friend he’s grateful.

“Anytime, pal,” Chanyeol answers with an easy smile.  “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m still kinda dizzy,” Jongin admits.  “And my eye doesn’t work right.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol apologizes.  “Our Gothitelle friend is really tired, so she just healed you enough to be sure you’d be alright until we can get you to a doctor.”

“That’s okay,” Jongin says.  “I feel a lot better than I did before.”

“Good,” Chanyeol replies.  “That must have been scary.”

Was it scary?  The whole experience seems strangely fuzzy.

“I think a building fell on me,” Jongin says.  “I was stuck in a cafe.”

“I got stuck in the river,” Chanyeol replies, then stops walking for a bit to tilt his head back toward the sky.  “It’s been a tough day for everyone,” he says when he starts walking again.

“Really tough,” Jongin agrees.  “But we’re okay, and we’re together.”

“That does make me feel a lot better.”

It seems like they walk for a long time, but they always head toward a bouncing light in the distance.  When they get closer, Jongin can see that it’s a glowing Staryu and that it’s bouncing on top of a bus. There’s a Pangoro and a Salamence standing near the bus and the back end is all opened up to expose the engine and everything.  Several people are peering at the bus’s insides with glowsticks around their necks and none of them are smiling.

“Stars, you two came back with an entire  _ parade, _ ” someone says, pulling away from the cluster at the back of the bus.

Several of the approaching trainers chuckle.  “It’s Chanyeol’s fault,” Junmyeon says, smiling at the man who’s now leaning against the bus.  “No one can resist following him around.”

“Evidently,” the guy says, stepping forward as they approach, and Jongin sees that it’s the cranky guy from before.  He doesn’t seem cranky anymore, though. He laughs at something Junmyeon says, and he even smiles at Jongin and gives him a little wave.

“I’m sorry I was so rude to you earlier,” the guy says as Chanyeol gently sets Jongin on his feet.  “How’s our youngest trainer?”

“It’s okay,” Jongin answers.  “I’ll be alright.”

“Glad to hear it,” the guy replies with a boxy smile.  “I’m Baekhyun. I don’t suppose you’re secretly a bus mechanic?”

Jongin carefully shakes his head.  “I’m just Jongin. But my friend Kyungsoo has lots of gear friends.  Maybe he knows about busses, too.”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, and then he darts away, leaving Jongin and Chanyeol giggling in his wake.

 

##  Motor Drive

“Hi!  Which one of you is the gear guy?”

The slender guy is in front of them so fast he may as well have apparated from a Pokéball.

Jongdae huffs at Kyungsoo’s side.  “That would be him.”

That boxy grin is pointed directly at him.  “I’m Baekhyun, let’s be friends,” the guy says.  “Since we’re friends, will you come and look at the back of the bus with me?”  He bats his lashes at Kyungsoo.

“Uh.  I’m Kyungsoo.  And… sure?”

Junmyeon, still with Minseok on his back, bursts into laughter.  “What happened to our Broody Baekhyun?”

“That guy Zitao gave me a Sol Energy drink.  Or three. I’m staying in the light, Myeonnie!  Just like Sunshine McLionpants told me to.”

He starts tugging at Kyungsoo’s hand.  Jongdae, confused but chuckling, unwraps himself from Kyungsoo’s shoulders and gives him a little prod.  

“Go be a hero again,” he says.

Kyungsoo tosses him an eyeroll over his shoulder as he lets Baekhyun drag him off.

As he suspected, the engine is indeed waterlogged, as is the gas tank, cooling system, and muffler.

“It’s all gotta come out,” he decrees.

“Kay,” Baekhyun acknowledges.  “Need help?”

“Got plenty.”  He gestures to the hovering gear-like ‘Mon and the Metagross waiting for instructions,

“Want a Sol Energy drink?”  He proffers a small white can with a bold yellow sunshine on it.

“Do I want to know where this came from?” Kyungsoo asks, turning to eye the two guys and the cart full of junk food they certainly hadn’t purchased in the middle of the Poké-pocalypse.

“Yifan assures me that they taped an envelope of cash to the register,” Baekhyun chirps.

Kyungsoo shrugs.  It’s not like he’s going to encounter a five-course meal any time soon.  

“What the hell.”  He takes the can from a grinning Baekhyun.

It tastes vaguely like tropical tinfoil, but the sugar, vitamins, and caffeine are welcomed by his weary body.  Under Baekhyun’s curious eye, Metagross chops out the useless components to make room for his gear-shaped friends.

“Got any energy drinks for Pokémon?” he asks the jittery guy when he’s done.  

Three Max Ethers appear in front of him, dangling from Baekhyun’s fingers.

Kyungsoo accepts the bottles.  “Great. When do you want to leave?”

“Let’s wait another hour to make sure no one else is coming,” Baekhyun decides.  

Kyungsoo nods.  “I’m sure Glalie and Gengar will agree to make sweeps from time to time, to see if anyone else is stuck somewhere.”

“Oh, good idea.  You’re the best!”  The excitable man scampers off, presumably to draft the floating Pokémon into service.

Shaking his head, Kyungsoo goes to see if the pseudo-looters have anything in their cart that won’t give a ten-year-old a heart attack.

 

##  Parental Bond

Junmyeon can still feel his exhaustion through the caffeine-induced buzz of the Sol Energy drink Baekhyun had basically forced down his throat.  As a result, he’s wide-awake putty in the seat of the bus as it’s piloted south across the river by Kyungsoo’s mechanical friends. The smallest pair of gears is steering and Baekhyun’s Staryu is happily strapped to the windshield, lighting the way and gently illuminating the bus’s interior.

Almost unable (and mostly unwilling) to move more than his eyeballs, Junmyeon satisfies himself by surveying the bus’s occupants.  The resuscitated vehicle is almost full of injured, filthy, exhausted souls like him, and Junmyeon tries to be happy so many survived.  He chooses not to dwell on the fact that everyone fits on one bus now when it had taken nine to deliver the assault teams originally. 

While he’s sad in general for the massive losses, he’s happy in particular that his newfound friends have made it more or less intact.  His eyes drift over his companions, letting their contentment wash into his own soul.

Minseok and Jongdae are entangled on the row of seats across from him, Minseok seated upright with Jongdae sprawled across his lap.

“I love you, Min,” the electric-type trainer keeps saying energetically.  Every time he does, the ice-type trainer melts a little more, tangles their fingers together over his lover’s chest, runs his good hand through the guy’s dust-covered hair.

Their Minun and Plusle are entwined as well, squeaking and buzzing as they pat each other all over as if making sure their other half is whole and healthy.  An observer might think they’d just been reunited, but they’ve been glued to each other like that for hours.

When Jongdae professes his love for the twentieth time or so, Minseok rolls his eyes above a grin.  Wincing a little, he leans down to kiss the babbling man in his lap, probably just to shut him up. The Minun and Plusle separate long enough to shoot red and blue sparks off over their  heads, jumping around with huge smiles on their little yellow faces.

This gets Baekhyun’s attention and he makes exaggerated retching sounds.  “Gross,” the man complains, but he’s smiling as he does. He’s sharing a row with Chanyeol, who seems delighted to have the luminous man’s attention even if it means listening to his hyper-caffeinated ramblings.

“They’re gross, aren’t they, Chanyeol?”

“Super gross,” Chanyeol agrees.  “It’s adorable.”

“Ugh, don’t encourage them!  There are children present!”

One child, actually, and he’s fast asleep and therefore entirely unaffected by the reconciled couple’s public affection.  Kyungsoo has the boy tucked up against his side, face looking slightly less ghoulish thanks to some effort with a sacrificed undershirt and some river water boiled by Chanyeol’s Pyroar and cooled by Minseok’s Glalie.

Zitao and Yifan are asleep too, propped up against each other in a way that looks well-practiced.  It makes Junmyeon wonder what they do when they’re not saving cities (and then performing honor-system shopping in unattended convenience stores).

All the rest of the trainers have fallen into the bus seats in clumps of twos and threes as well.  Some are laughing, like the trio playing with a tiny sparking hamster-like ‘Mon. Some are fighting, like the couple in the back holding hands as they argue, as if to remember their connection means more than their irritation.  And some are melancholy, like the two women just holding each other silently because there are no good words after the loss of someone you love.

The only one sitting alone is Junmyeon himself, because the one face he wants to see most is six hundred kilometers away.  

He drops his head to look at the phone in his hand, making his mouse ears slip down over his forehead.  He manages to lift an arm to push them back to the top of his head, surprised he’d actually kept them on through the entire ordeal.

Maybe his son’s discarded accessory had been his good luck charm.  

Sighing, he gazes wistfully at his phone.  The battery is long dead thanks to his forgetting to plug it in last night, and he internally kicks himself.  Sure, he can help save the country, but he can’t manage to charge his damn phone.

“Our Plusle knows Charge.”  Minseok’s voice breaks through Junmyeon’s self-flagellation.  “Jongdae’s always forgetting to plug in his phone.” He looks up at the red-eared Pokémon.  “Do you need a Leppa berry first? I bet everyone would like their phones topped off so they can call their families.”

The Plusle bounces down into Minseok’s lap to paw excitedly at his belt pouch, sticking its tiny butt in Jongdae’s face and bopping the man in the nose with its plus-shaped tail.  Laughing at his lover’s indignant sputter, Minseok shifts in the seat with a wince, reaching for the pouch with his good arm.

“I’ll get it, Min.”  Jongdae sits up properly, the better to reach into the pouch and retrieve the required berry for the excited little ‘Mon.  The Plusle promptly shoves the red and yellow berry in its face, round red cheeks bulging adorably. 

Still chewing, the Plusle skips over to Junmyeon and holds out its little red paws.  He hands over his phone and the little Pokémon concentrates for a moment, red sparks flickering over the device before the screen lights up with the loading sequence.

“Thanks, pal,” Junmyeon says, giving the cheerful little ‘Mon a grateful smile before directing it at Minseok across the aisle.

“Of course, Junmyeon—shoulda said something sooner, buddy,” Minseok chides.

“I never want to be a bother,” Junmyeon answers sheepishly.

Minseok barks out a laugh as Jongdae carries the Plusle from seat to seat, offering the little 'Mon’s services.  “Myeon, you kept Dae from dropping my ass, then you hauled me the rest of the way to the bus. I think I can be bothered to charge your phone so you can tell your kid you’re still alive, you dork.”

“Want to see him?”

“Duh,” is Minseok’s answer.  “But you’ll have to come over here.  Gothitelle saved my life but my leg’s still very broken.”

“I can do that,” Junmyeon smiles. The thought of talking to his Hunnie adds strength to his limbs.

The video call screen is already connecting as Junmyeon drags himself across the aisle to sit in the seat Jongdae just vacated.  He holds the phone up so he and Min can both see the owner of the screeching voice that jumps out of the speakers.

“Papa I thought you were squished and dead and crushed with your dumb little fish but Daddy said you were brave and your fish was super strong; even stronger than Swablu will be when we’re all grown up and I want one too so after we move there you’re going to help me catch one and—”

“Slow down, Sehunnie,” Junmyeon laughs.  “I’m fine. I love you. I’m sure your Daddy can help you catch a Wishiwashi in Qingdao.”

“But I don’t want a Chinese one, I want one just like Papa’s,” the boy protests.  “And we won’t be in Qingdao much more longer; only until they fix all the buildings in Seoul so we can have one to live in.”

“Is that Papa Junie?” a deeper, more adult voice gasps, getting louder as it keeps talking.  “Sehunnie, it’s not nice to run off with Daddy’s phone when we’re waiting for an important call.”

“Oh, sorry,” Junmyeon says.  “I can talk to Sehun later.”

“You idiot,  _ you’re _ the important call,” Yixing says, face filling the screen (much to Sehun’s vocal displeasure).  “Are you alright?”

Junmyeon’s not sure how the question makes him feel, so his face isn’t sure what expression to display.

“Uh, yeah,” he manages to answer.  “I mean, I’m fine. What’s this about moving?”

“Ah, did Sehunnie tell you?  I told him to wait until I’d talked with you.  You must be exhausted—you should rest.”

“I’m fine,” Junmyeon says again even though he absolutely is exhausted.  “Why does Sehunnie think you’re moving to Seoul?”

Yixing lets out a deep sigh.  “I hate to ask you for this favor when you’ve just saved your country, but, well.  Zhoumi and I travel a lot; you know this. And my parents are getting older and Sehunnie’s so active.  I know you’re busy and you have your own life, but if we lived in Seoul, maybe he could stay with you when Zhoumi and I are out of town?  We’d compensate you, of course, and I wouldn’t burden you with this but Sehunnie talks about you all the time. I think he’d like to spend more time with you and—”

“Of course he can stay with me,” Junmyeon interrupts, trading a quick grin with Minseok.  “I’d love that—you don’t need to compensate me to spend time with my own son.” Junmyeon feels his grin melt into a grimace.  “Sehun is right that we’ll have to wait for them to rebuild somewhere for me to live, first, though.”

“You can stay with us for a while,” Minseok says from beside him, and Junmyeon angles the phone toward the ice trainer again.  “Our building’s pretty far south of the river so we’re pretty sure it’ll be perfectly habitable once we get the all clear from the city officials.  Dae’s moving in, of course, but there’s a guest room and my roommate’s in China for the duration.”

“Found yourself a cutie, there, Junie?”  Yixing’s grin is teasing but fond.

Junmyeon’s face heats enough that he’s actually grateful for the layer of dust over his cheeks.  “We’re just friends,” he asserts.

“Minseok’s mine!” Jongdae calls as he strides back towards the front of the bus.  He’s got his Plusle on his shoulder and a pale blue Pokémon egg in his arms. He plops himself down on Minseok’s other side, shoving his face onto the camera.  “Junmyeon’s awesome,” he informs Yixing. “And he can totally stay with us for as long as he likes. But Min’s  _ my _ cutie and I love him so Myeon’s gonna have to find someone else to smooch.  These gorgeous lips are all for me.”

Junmyeon smiles but rescues his phone, pointing it back at himself alone.  “Can you put Hunnie back on, please? I’d really like to see his face after the day I’ve had.”

“Of course,” Yixing agrees, and the image swings wildly before focusing on his son’s face.  Junmyeon just lets him talk, showing him all of the things he’s going to pack for the eventual move to Seoul.  He makes all the appropriate I’m-listening noises, but really he’s just soaking up his baby’s smile. 

He doesn’t care what else Sehun brings to Seoul as long as he brings himself.

 

##  Anticipation

Minseok shushes his very vocal boyfriend, trying not to disrupt Junmyeon’s video call more than they already have.  As he does so, his eyes land on the egg in his lover’s lap. “What’s that?”

“It’s a present for my handsome, brave, kind, forgiving love,”Jongdae informs him, leaning against Minseok’s shoulder and batting his long dark lashes up at him.

“Really?” Minseok tilts his head as he studies the pale blue egg.  “I’ve never seen an egg like that—what is it and where did you get it?”

“It’s a Vulpix,” Jongdae says proudly, as if he produced the egg himself.  “And it’ll be a perfect pal for your big frosty friend.”

“Uh, but Vulpix are fire-types,” Minseok says, running the fingers of his good hand over the beautiful shell. 

“Not when they’re from Alola,” Jongdae preens, then gestures toward the back of the bus with his chin.  

A white foxy face peeks up over the back of one of the seats and Minseok doesn’t even care that he makes an entirely unmanly noise in response.  It’s so sweet and snowy and it closes contented eyes as it’s stroked fondly by the woman who’s lap it’s occupying.

It’s possible that someone with a helium-esque voice squeaks something that could potentially be interpreted as “Oh my stars, it’s  _ so cute! _ ”

It’s also possible that this person is Minseok himself.

To prevent further undignified noises from leaving his throat, Minseok kisses Jongdae, one hand still resting protectively on the egg as he does so.  Jongdae chuckles into the kiss but his lips are nothing but serious against Minseok’s own, as if he’s sealing some solemn vow every time their lips touch.

It’s too heady a feeling for an injured man in a Pokémon-piloted bus instead of a healthy man in a comfortable bed, so he shoves his thoughts firmly away from dangerous territory and pulls away to look down at the egg again.

“But how did you get it?” he interrogates his grinning lover.  “Did Mini-Min and Sulie make another egg to trade or something?”  This is an occasional, incredibly baffling occurrence that neither of the humans have ever seen happening and that both ionic Pokémon deny any knowledge of.  

But Jongdae shakes his head.  “She said she wanted us to have it.  She’s grateful we charged her phone and she says that Glalie threw a Light Screen over her and her Mega Absol right before Mega Rayquaza hit the ground.”

Minseok smiles.  His ferocious-looking friend is a big softie, so he’s not surprised to hear that.  He gives a wave and a bow toward the woman with the white Vulpix, receiving a smile and a nod in return.

“That’s so nice,” Minseok sighs, slumping against Jongdae’s shoulder and petting the egg gently.  “I’m so excited.”

“You’re so exhausted,” Jongdae says.  “Why don’t you do like cute little Jonginnie and cuddle up for a nap?  It’ll be another twenty minutes or so before we get to Suwon.”

“Hmph,” Minseok huffs, but he does settle more comfortably against Jongdae’s shoulder, grimacing a little as the grit infusing everyone’s clothes comes in contact with his cheek.  He wonders if Jongdae’s phone still works—his family would probably appreciate an update. His own phone was smashed when the parking structure fell. He’s still got it in his pocket—he hopes to be able to salvage photos and contacts off of it—but it’s definitely not in a useable state.  

His eyes feel as full of grit as his clothes, so Minseok gives in to the urge to close them.  He can call his folks when they get to Suwon. In the meantime, he’s going to enjoy having Jongdae close to him again, soaking in the feeling of being pressed up against him after so long without much physical contact at all.

This shamelessly-affectionate version of the man he loves is intoxicating, but Minseok can’t help but be a little wary.  Jongdae’s high on adrenaline, victory, and one or more of those Sol Energy drinks that the group had somehow gotten ahold of.  Everyone on this bus faced death today, so they’re not very likely to comment on the occasional public kiss between two men. They’re just too exhausted to care.

But sooner or later the public they’re in will be populated by people who  _ would  _ care, not to mention Jongdae’s family.  Minseok’s not so sure if the things he wants to change will stay the same or not, but he’s fine with the enigma for now.  It’s easier for his broken body and battered heart to take uncertainty instead of definite heartbreak, so he intends to float in limbo for as long as he can.

 

##  Cloud Nine

Minseok’s breathing almost immediately deepens into the gentlest of snores, and Mini-Min snuggles into the curve of his trainer’s neck to follow suit.  Sulie is in Jongdae’s lap, embracing the icy Vulpix egg with its tiny limbs, and he reaches down to caress his friend’s perky red ears. 

Junmyeon’s call with his kid reminds him he should probably contact his own family, so Jongdae carefully digs his phone out of his pocket with his free hand before frowning at the multiple layers of silvery Faraday baggies any smart electric-type trainer keeps their electronics in.

“I got you,” Chanyeol rumbles, reaching over the safety rail separating his forward-facing seat from Jongdae’s sideways-facing one.  

Jongdae gives his new friend his phone along with a grateful smile, nodding his thanks when his unwrapped phone is handed back to him.  Then he convinces Sulie to stop cuddling the Vulpix egg long enough to fully charge the device since video calls can eat through battery life and he wants no interruptions.

But before he makes the most anxiety-inducing phone call of his life, he takes several selfies of their cozy little family.  He’s got the dumbest smile in all of them, but he can’t make any other expression when he sees himself on the screen with his Min safe and alive and cuddled up against him with their matching ‘Mon.

He’s determined to keep Minseok cuddled up next to him (or at least generally willing to be), so he makes himself video-call his parents.  He thumbs the volume down low so as not to disturb his snoozing love.

“Son?”  His dad’s deep voice rumbles out of Jongdae’s phone before the screen shows anything other than darkness.  The click of a lamp reveals his father in the familiar surroundings of his grandparents’ house in Siheung. “Where are you?  When will you get here? Your mother is freaking out about the Poké-beasts and the wedding venue—did you happen to see if the Namsan area was alright?”

“Dad,” Jongdae says.  “Almost all the damage was north of the river, so no promises about Namsan.  I know the tower’s still standing, but I have no idea about the rest of it. But I’m fine, thanks for asking.  And so is Minseok—well, he’s got a few broken bones and he’s exhausted but he’s alive and he still loves me so I’m grateful.”

His dad peers into his phone.  “Is that the little queer boy from your school?  I thought you didn’t hang out with guys like him—”

_ Here we go.  This is it. You can do it. _

“Dad, I  _ am _ guys like him,” Jongdae interrupts.  “I love him, and I’m moving in with him, and if I have to look for a new job while I’m at it then I’ll do that, too.”

“Son, you can’t be serious.  Did you hit your head playing hero or—”

“Kim Jongdae, you cannot just move in with that man!” his mother breaks in, shoving her face into the frame.

“I can and I will,” Jongdae says, resting his cheek against the top of Minseok’s head.

“Not until you two are married,” his mom says.

Jongdae’s brain stalls and he has the vague impression of himself opening and closing his mouth repeatedly before words actually come out of it again.  “Uh, Mom, I know Minseok’s really pretty but I assure you he’s all man. We can’t get married.”

“You can and you will,” his mother responds.  “We’ll do it in America or Australia or somewhere—I don’t care if the Republic of Korea recognizes it, I won’t have you living in sin.  I raised you better than that.”

Jongdae feels himself do another imitation of Junmyeon’s little fishy friend.  “Uh. Well. I’ll ask Min if he’s cool with getting fake-married when he wakes up.  If he’s fine with it, we’ll indulge you as long as you pay for all of it. But I’m not waiting for a piece of paper in a foreign language before I move in with him.  We belong together, and I’m certainly not letting him live on his own with two broken limbs.”

There’s a gasp.  “Oh, the poor dear!  You bring him to Mama, baby.  I’ll start making pumpkin soup right now—”

“I’m bringing him to Suwon to check in with the officials and give our report, then I’m taking him to a doctor.  Then we’re going to a hotel where he can bathe and sleep. We’ll come see you when he’s ready.”

Jongdae manages not to add “which may be never.”

His mom frowns, then nods.  “Alright. You take good care of him, Kim Jongdae.  He’s got to be well enough to dance at your wedding—the pair of you will look so handsome in matching suits…” 

His mom’s face disappears in favor of his father’s.

“I don’t approve of any of this,” the frowning man says.  “But you know as well as I do that once your mother gets her mind set, it’s much easier just to go along with her whims.  I already had to buy a new monkey suit for Jongdeok’s wedding—might as well get two uses out of it.”

Jongdae feels his face soften.  “Thanks, Dad,” he murmurs. “We’ll call again soon.”

“See that you do,” the gruff man commands, and then Jongdae lowers the phone to his lap, shaking his head.

“Parents,” Baekhyun says in commiseration.  “I love mine, but if I have to hear the “art isn’t a real career” lecture one more time…”

“You’re an artist?” Chanyeol asks, giving the man beside him a look of awe.

“Of course,” Baekhyun dismisses.  “Did you think I was doing the grumpy-goth concept for fun?”

“I thought you said you were sleep-deprived because your dreams were haunted,” Chanyeol says.

“That, too,” Baekhyun agrees.

“Well, the next call will be easier.”  Jongdae smiles at the pair before dialing and holding the phone up in front of them again.

Han looks and sounds incredibly relieved right off the bat.

“Oh good, you’re still alive.”

Jongdae’s smile is tired but genuine.  “Yeah. Both of us, though Min’s a bit battered.”  He angles the phone toward the man sleeping against his shoulder.

“How the hell is he so damn cute even though he’s just survived city-wide destruction?” Han gripes.  “They’re showing drone footage on the news as your army moves in and  _ damn _ am I glad to see that pretty little face.”

Jongdae chuckles.  “Yeah, he’s disgusting.  Um. I’m the worst boyfriend ever, because I don’t have his parents’ number.”

“No, you’re the worst boyfriend ever because you only let him cuddle with you when you’ve both almost died and there’s no one around to judge you.”

Jongdae feels himself flush as he winces.  “Yeah, that too. But not anymore—I love him and he can cuddle me whenever he wants.”

“About damn time, Kim Jongdae!” Han cheers.  “Damn, you’re the luckiest bastard—you save the city, manage not to die, and Min’s all over you.”

Jongdae’s face heats further as he nods.  “I am the luckiest bastard. But so is Min—he thinks your place will be fine since it’s on the south side.  Speaking of which, um. I’m moving in?”

A deep sigh whooshes out of Han’s smiling lips.  “Are you saying that I’m going to have to watch you guys be cute all over my own home?”

Jongdae’s lips curve in an answering smile.  “I’d apologize, but I’m not at all sorry. I am sorry I can’t call Min’s folks and let them know he’s alright.  His phone’s smashed or I’d just use that. Can you call them for me? Give them my number so they can see him for themselves.”

“Of course.  You take good care of my best friend, Kim Jongdae,” Han lectures with a frown before signing off with a smile.

 

##  Battle Bond

Baekhyun starts his own video call as Jongdae looks around, holding his phone up for anyone else that may want to use one.  He lifts a brow at Kyungsoo, who’s feeling very paternal with his arm wrapped around the sleeping Jongin. 

]“You wanna call somebody?” Jongdae asks, proffering his phone.

Kyungsoo shakes his head.  “Nobody to call,” he admits.  “Thanks for the offer, though.”

Jongdae blinks.  “Well, you saved my Min, so if you need a place to stay as well—”

Kyungsoo shakes his head again.  “It’s good of you to offer, but my place is also on the south side of the river.  I expect it to be fine.”

Jongdae nods.  “Good. But let me know if there’s anything we can ever do for you.”

Kyungsoo’s first instinct is to politely decline the offer but he ends up nodding, unable to deny the sincerity in Jongdae’s eyes.  ”I will,” he says, “And you do the same. I’m given to understand that’s how friendship works.”

Jongdae’s own face goes serious as he catches the eye of those they’d suffered with and triumphed beside.  “That’s right—and that goes for all of you. We’re the same as family, now.”

“I feel the same,” Chanyeol adds.  “I don’t think any of us would have succeeded without the others, or without those we left behind.”  The tall man’s eyes get a little glossier.

Baekhyun hums his agreement, having ended his call shortly after it had begun.  “This family is much tighter-knit after roughly ten hours together than the one I was born into.  May we always be so close,” he toasts, holding up a can of Sol Energy.

“How many of those have you had?” Junmyeon asks, looking a little concerned.

Baekhyun tilts his head as he thinks.  “Less than six?”

Junmyeon frowns.  “Baek, you told me Solgaleo said to stay in the light, not pour all of the ‘light’ into you.”

“Look, you saw the terrifying, majestic beast,” Baekhyun says.  “I’m just making absolutely sure to cover all my bases so he doesn’t come back and decide the light I need to stay in is his Solar Beam.” 

Chanyeol chuckles.  “No more, though, Baek.  You could really use some sleep, and you don’t need to hide from your dreams anymore.”

Baekhyun’s face lights up.  “That’s right! I can’t wait to have fun dreams again.”

_ Neither can I, _ Kyungsoo thinks as he looks around at all the messy, emotional, blood-covered  _ people _ that would have turned his stomach that very morning.  He’d left his apartment to preserve his way of life, and now he can’t wait to change it.  

The bus is quiet after that save for the sounds of whirring gears and sleeping breaths.  They pull into Suwon just after midnight. 

To Kyungsoo, it certainly feels like the start of a brand new day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note:  
> 
> -Title is taken from a Pokémon movie. 
> 
> -Section headers are all Pokémon abilities. 
> 
> -Each (current) EXO member has a direct analogue to a character in the "Help" music video.
> 
> -In order to blend "accuracy" with drama, Pokémon mechanics and concepts were freely borrowed from the seventh-generation video games, Pokémon Go, and the anime.
> 
> Most notably, using candy to level up/evolve a Pokémon and mass battles where many trainers fight one “boss” come from Pokémon Go, while Pokémon coming out of their balls by themselves under dire circumstances, refusing to go back to the ball because it would endanger their trainer even if it means the Pokémon’s actual death instead of merely fainting, and destroying a ball to forcibly release a Pokémon are all concepts from the anime.  
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
